


Invisus

by kdblaylock93



Series: Anima [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Eventual Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Gen, Harry Potter is a Horcrux, Healthy Relationships, Hogwarts First Year, Horcruxes, Mentor Severus Snape, Past Child Abuse, Rule 63, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, The Golden Trio, eventual Harry Potter/Voldemort, eventual Luna Lovegood/Ron Weasley, no beta we die like men, no romance is in invisus, the relationship tag is for the series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-08-22 09:42:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 69,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16595471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kdblaylock93/pseuds/kdblaylock93
Summary: The only time that Harri Potter had called Aunt Petunia ‘mum’ she was promptly smacked across the face.It wasn't the first time her Aunt had hit her, but it was certainly the hardest. “I’m not your mother,” Aunt Petunia had snarled....It was only later, in the privacy of the room she had rented at the Leaky Cauldron, that Harri was finally alone. She removed the ribbon Mr. Ollivander had wrapped around her wrist to see the words that should have appeared once her wand bonded.The words 'Avada Kedavra' glared at her in emerald green.Harri's heart dropped.





	1. The Vanishing Glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Part 1 of my Fem!Harry Soulmate AU. I am currently in the process of editing these chapters. If you see any glaring typos please let me know. To those of you who have already read this work and are re-reading, Hi again, and thanks so much for the multiple reads. I'm so touched that my work has warranted a second look through. 
> 
> If Hogwarts year 1 AUs aren't your thing feel free to skip Invisus and read Compendio (Invisus Redux). It's the important bits of this story condensed down into 2,000 words. Obviously, I'd love if you read the whole story. But there are a lot of year 1 AUs out there, and reading the same lines over and over again can get old. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this series! Please let me know what you think :)

The only time that Harri Potter had called Aunt Petunia ‘mum’ she was promptly smacked across the face.

It wasn't the first time her Aunt had hit her, but it was certainly the hardest. “I’m not your mother,” Aunt Petunia had snarled. Harri had known that. She had always known, because the Dursleys had made it clear her entire life that Harri was not welcome at Number 4. When she looked back on the moment, Harri wasn’t entirely sure what had prompted her. In her five-year-old mind's eye, had she just wanted to be loved? Had she truly believed that her Aunt might reach back with returned affection?

At ten years old Harri knew the truth about that. The Dursleys would never love her. Because Harri is unlovable.

No one liked little Harri Potter. Harriet, as the teachers at school call her. Freak, as her cousin Dudley calls her. The girl, according to her Uncle and Aunt. 

She has no friends because everyone knows that Dudley will hit any girls or boys seen with Harri.

Instead, Harri Potter is isolated and alone at school. She mostly hides in the library or music room to avoid Dudley and his gang. Her teachers don’t comment, but she suspects that they do notice that she wears oversized boys clothing that is worn and faded. That her glasses are taped together. That she is far too small and skinny for her age. For whatever reason, they don’t comment. To Harri, it is only confirmation that she is unlovable.

She tries at school, she really does. Harri is thankfully not penalized for getting better marks than Dudley. Uncle Vernon has always been perfectly content to comment that school, “is for nancy boys and ugly girls anyways". The two refuges that Harri has are books and music. She manages, as if by magic, to be unnoticed when she is reading in the library or strumming a guitar in the music room. She always pictures a shield around herself, a bubble that is exactly Harri sized, that no one can enter. And because she is unlovable Harri Potter, that no one looks for in the first place, she is left alone.

It was during Year 1 of primary school that Harri first read about a mother. In _P_ _eter Pan,_  all the Darling children long to go home to Mrs. Darling. They have a home where Wendy, Michael, and John are beloved by their worried mum. Harri sat there, with her book on her small lap, and pictures it perfectly.

“Mama loves you, my darling girl,” a beautiful woman whispers to her. Hair just as red as Harri’s.

Everyone has to have a mother. Maybe hers loved her. Maybe, in the whole world, there had once been someone who loved Harri Potter.

She had cried, wet drops hitting the pages. A hole in her heart had grown. Harri had gone back to Number 4, called Aunt Petunia mum, and gotten hit across the face for her trouble.

By the time she was ten, Harri had read the book at least twenty times. It was stained with her tears. Through her longing, Harri was able to picture a woman with fire red hair and a smile that was just for her.

* * *

Harri was awoken on the morning of her cousin’s eleventh birthday by the shrill voice of her Aunt.

“Up! Get Up! Now!”

Harri woke with a start. Her aunt rapped on the door again.

“Up!” She screeched. Harri heard her walking toward the kitchen and the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. She rolled over and tried to remember the dream she had been having. Her mother’s face had been perfectly clear while sleeping, but it was quickly fading away. Harri often wondered if there was a picture of her mother somewhere in the house. She knew that she had been Aunt Petunia’s sister. But that was it. Harri wasn’t allowed to ask questions without being hit.

Her aunt was back outside the door.“Are you up yet?” she demanded.

“Nearly,” said Harri.

“Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don’t you dare let it burn. I want everything perfect for Duddy’s birthday.”

Harri groaned.

“What did you say?” her aunt snapped through the door.

“Nothing, nothing…”

Harri got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. She found a pair under her bed and, after pulling a spider off one of them, put them on. Harri was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where she slept.

When she was dressed she went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all of Dudley’s birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention a staggering number of other electronics.

Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Harri had always been small and skinny for her age. _Or maybe it's because they don’t feed you enough_ , the dark part of her thought. Harri hated the Dursleys, but with a resigned kind of hatred. She knew that at eighteen the Dursleys would turn her out and that she would need to be smart enough to survive when they did.

Harri had a thin face, knobbly knees, bright red hair, and hazel eyes. She wore round glasses held together with a lot of Scotch tape because of all the times Dudley had ripped them off her face and stomped on them. The only thing that Harri liked about her appearance was a thin scar on her forehead that was shaped like lightning. She had had it as long as she could remember, and the first question she could ever remember asking her Aunt was how she had gotten it.

“In the car crash when your parents died,” she had said. “And don’t ask questions.”

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harri was turning over the bacon.

“Pull back your hair!” he barked, by way of a morning greeting.

Uncle Vernon hated untidiness, and since he refused to spend money on Harri, he instead was perpetually displeased with her appearance. Harri imagined that she could look presentable if she had clothes that fit. Or someone to show her how to do her hair instead of fussing at her all the time about it. She pulled it back into a low ponytail. She wished she knew how to plait her hair, but she wasn’t sure where to begin.

Harri was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Harri put the plates of eggs and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn’t much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.

“Thirty-six,” he said, looking up at his mother and father. “That’s two less than last year.” Harri tuned the rest out. She had never received a birthday gift from anyone. Dudley’s theatrics about not getting enough only served to make Harri’s heart clench in frustration.

While Harri began to eat as quickly as she could, the telephone rang. Aunt Petunia went to answer, while Dudley began to open his gifts.

“Bad news, Vernon,” she said. “Mrs. Figg’s broken her leg. She can’t take the girl.”

Dudley’s mouth fell open in horror. Harri felt her heart sink. She didn’t like Mrs. Figg per se. Mrs. Figg was a mad old lady who lived two streets away. Her whole house smelled of cabbage, but Mrs. Figg had cats and a piano. Harri liked cats a good deal, as they only seemed to like a select number of people. Harri was one of them.

Harri also relished the time she could spend at Mrs. Figg’s piano. It was old and slightly out of tune, but Mrs. Figg let Harri rattle around on it for hours. With no one to teach her, Harri checked out primers form the library and played old sheet music that Mrs. Figg had collected through the years. There was also a hymnal that Harri had stolen from church two Christmas’ ago when the Dursleys had made their biannual pilgrimage to the Anglican parish.

“Now what?” said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Harri as though she had planned this. Harri felt quite sorry for Mrs. Figg but worse for herself. It might be weeks before she got to play again.

“We could phone Marge,” Uncle Vernon suggested.

“Don’t be silly, Vernon, she hates the girl.”

The Dursleys often spoke about Harri like this, as though she wasn’t there- or rather, as though she was something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like a slug.

“What about whats-her-name, your friend- Yvonne?”

“On vacation in Majorca,” snapped Aunt Petunia.

“You could just leave me here,” Harri put in hopefully. “Or call Mrs. Figg back. I promise I won’t be any trouble for her.”

“And come back and find the house in ruins?” snarled Aunt Petunia. “I suppose we could take her to the zoo,” she continued, “and leave her in the car.”

“That car’s new, she’s not sitting in it alone…”

Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn’t crying- it had been years since he’d really cried- but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted.

“Dinky Duddydums, don’t cry, Mummy won’t let her spoil your special day!” she cried, flinging her arms around him.

“I… don’t… want… her… t-t-to come!” Dudley yelled between huge pretend sobs. “She always spoils everything!” He shot Harri a nasty grin through the gap in his mother’s arms.

Just then the doorbell rang- “Oh good Lord, they’re here!” said Aunt Petunia frantically- and a moment later, Dudley’s best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. Harri had never liked how he looked at her. Like she was gum on the bottom of his shoe. He’d called her a slag several times, a word that she was certain he’d heard from his brother and didn’t understand. Harri had not either until she had looked it up on the new library computer. Harri hoped that she didn’t have to use computers too often, as they often acted strangely. The librarian, fresh from her orientation on how the new technology worked, was befuddled why it always acted up after Harri used it.

Half an hour later, Harri, who couldn't believe that she was going somewhere public with the Dursleys, was sitting in the back of the car with Piers and Dudley on the ways to the zoo. She had seen pictures of animals in an encyclopedia and was hopeful about seeing a tiger or lion. Maybe big cats would like her like their domestic cousins.

Maybe they would like her enough to eat Dudley.

“I’m warning you,” Uncle Vernon had said, taking Harri aside before they left. “Any funny business, anything at all- and you’ll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas.”

“I’m not going to do anything,” said Harri.

But Uncle Vernon didn’t believe her. No one ever did. From her bubble of solitude to the computers acting up, strange things often occurred around Harri.

Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harri letting her hair remain unbound, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut her hair to her ears. Harri spent a sleepless night worrying about looking like a little boy the next day at school. Next morning, however, she had gotten up to find her hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off. She had been given a week in her cupboard for this, thankful as always that she had snuck food and water so that she wouldn’t starve.

But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with Dudley and Piers and not with her piano, to be spending the day with animals.

It was a sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance. The smiling lady in the van had asked Harri if she wanted anything, but Petunia had said no for Harri, commenting on young girls and their figures.

They ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory didn’t have enough ice cream on top, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and Harri was allowed to finish the first. Harri loved food. She could never eat much without feeling ill, but she loved the rare taste of something good. Often the Dursleys would give Harri leftovers that were stale in the fridge. Or only rice with no curry. Never the expensive part of a meal. At restaurants, Aunt Petunia would make Harri split with her, and would only give Harri the parts of her meal that she didn’t like.

After lunch, they went to the Reptile House. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon’s car and crushed it into a trash can- but at the moment it was fast asleep.  
Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils.

“Make it move,” he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn’t budge.

“Do it again,” Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass, but the snake snoozed on.

“This is boring,” Dudley moaned and shuffled away.

Harri moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. She wouldn’t have been surprised if it had died of boredom. It was worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom, where the only visitor was Aunt Petunia.

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were level with Harri’s.

It winked

Harri started. Then she looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They weren’t. She looked back at the snake and winked too.

The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, and then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harri a look that said quite plainly:  
“I get that all the time.”

Now Harri, used to wanting no one to see her, felt the sudden need to be invisible with the snake. She pulled her bubble around herself in her mind. Just the snake and Harri. No one would notice them.

“ _I know,_ ” Harri murmured. “ _It must be really annoying_.”

The snake nodded vigorously.

“ _Where do you come from, anyway?_ ” Harri asked. This time as she spoke Harri thought she heard a hiss to her voice. The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harri peered at it.

Boa Constrictor, Brazil.

“ _Was it nice there?_ ” Harri hissed. She was sure of it now, she was speaking to a snake like a snake. She had no idea how she was doing it.

The boa jabbed its tail at the sign again, and Harri read on: Bred in the zoo. “ _Oh, I see- so you’ve never been to Brazil?_ ”

The snake sadly shook its head. Harri looked around and saw that the Dursleys were leaving the Reptile House. They had forgotten Harri, which was ideal because she was certainly doing something that Uncle Vernon would not approve of.

Harri had seen pictures of Brazil before in the library encyclopedia. She pictured the rich Amazon filled with life. She felt something funny inside of her. Like a tingle in the back of her throat, or an itch behind her eyes.

“ _Do you want to go to Brazil_ ,” Harri asked. She didn’t know how she knew, but she was certain that if she willed it the snake would be in the Amazon.

It nodded its head. Not knowing how, Harri willed the glass partition out of existence.

It vanished.

She reached out to touch the snake, and her fingers gently brushed the warm dry head. “ _Thank you ssspeaker_ ,” the snake hissed, and was gone.

Harri started as if from a trance. The glass was gone, the snake was gone, and the Dursleys were not in the Reptile House any longer. She needed to catch up. As she rushed from the room, the sounds of people gasping in panic followed her.

They had noticed that the glass and snake were gone.

* * *

Harri laid in her dark cupboard much later and wondered about that had occurred. How had the glass vanished? How had she talked to a snake? Had she really sent it to Brazil? How??

Harri tried to will something else to happen, but she didn’t know how. The feeling of the Reptile House, of seeing a trapped animal that clearly wished to be elsewhere had filled her with something.

Rage, she realized.

The snake was like her. She felt rage that the Dursleys treated her this way. No better than an animal at the zoo.

She’d lived with the Dursleys for almost ten years, ten miserable years, as long as she could remember, ever since she’d been a baby. She couldn’t remember being in the car when her parents had died. Sometimes, when she strained her memory during long hours in the cupboard, she came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain on her forehead. This, she supposed, was the crash, though she couldn’t imagine where all the green light came from.

When Harri had been younger she had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relative coming to take her away. But, Harri had no one.

Little Harri Potter was unlovable, but apparently she could send a snake to Brazil. That was something at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For updates about when new chapters will be posted in the series, take a look at the series page. If you're curious about the main goals of this seven-part series I'll lay it out here-
> 
> 1\. Soulmate AU/Gender Change- I love soulmate AUs and I love the idea of Voldemort and Harry Potter being connected and bound up in each other's souls. I absolutely love several fem!Harry fics, so please be aware that I'm building off a 'fannon' as well as creating my own version of fem!Harry.
> 
> 2\. Dark Lord and 'Light Lord' are concepts that have far-reaching magical impacts. Voldemort didn't have a very strong motivation IMO. Let's give him one. I'm going to attempt to tie a lot of 'Pureblood' Culture, add a different perspective of light and dark magic, and do some world building. Magic is such a big playground that has a ton of development available. My main focus will be expanding Potions, Magic Creatures, Magical Festivals, and general politics of the wizarding world. 
> 
> 3\. Severus Snape is a complex man. Dumbledore is a complex man. Sometimes it may seem like I'm getting close to the line of badguy!Dumbledore. Let me assure you now that this is not a Dumbledore bashing fic. He's making decisions for real reasons that will take several books to be made clear.


	2. The Magic Letters

The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor gave Harri a lot to think about. It preoccupied her so completely that by the time she came out of her fog of contemplation, the summer holidays had started. Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote controlled airplane, and the first time out on his racing bike, knocked down Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.

Harri had spent a long time apologizing to Mrs. Figg about her cousin. The old woman remained distant but was willing enough to have Harri help her around the house. After helping Mrs. Figg with her gardening, Harri got to play piano for a good hour before it got too late.

Harri was glad school was over, but there was no escaping Dudley’s gang, who visited the house every single day. They were all big stupid boys, and all wanted to play Dudley’s favorite game of Harri Hunting.

This was why Harri spent as much time as possible out of Number 4. When she wasn’t at the Library or Mrs. Figg’s, she was wandering around and thinking about the end of the holidays, where she could see a tiny ray of hope. When September came she would be going off to secondary school and, for the first time her life, she wouldn’t be with Dudley. Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon’s old private school, Smeltings. Harri, on the other hand, was going to Stonewall High, the local public school. Dudley thought this was very funny.

“They stuff people’s heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall,” he told Harri. “Want to come upstairs and practice?”

“No, thanks,” said Harri. “The poor toilet’s never had anything as horrible as your head down it- it might be sick!” Then she ran, before Dudley could work out what she’d said.

One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Harri at Mrs. Figg’s. Mrs. Figg was used to Harri’s presence. She had broken her leg tripping over one of her cats, and seemed to have cooled towards them. They were a little starved for affection, and the cats meowed for pets constantly around Harri. Harri had a very pleasant afternoon gardening and scratching Mr. Tibbs under the chin.

That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room in his new uniform. It was a silly looking affair of maroon with a straw hat. It also came with a stick, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren’t looking.

Harri didn’t know what to say when she saw Dudley. She thought two of her ribs might have cracked from trying not to laugh.

* * *

There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Harri went in for breakfast. When she peered into the sink, she saw a tub full of what looked like dirty rags in gray water.

“What’s this?” she asked Aunt Petunia. Her Aunt's lips tightened as they always did if Harri dared to ask a question.

"Your new school uniform,” she said.

Harri looked in the tub again. Horror creeping in.

“Oh,” she said, “I didn’t realize it had to be so wet.”

“Don’t be stupid,” snapped Aunt Petunia. “I’m dyeing some of Dudley’s old things gray for you. It’ll look just like everyone else’s when I’ve finished.”

Harri had to turn away to stop herself from saying anything. Her eyes were burning. And not just from the dye fumes. She would look ridiculous. Like she was wearing bits of old elephant skin. No one would like her. She would still be strange. Surely there was a used uniform that she could get somewhere? Something other than dyed oversized boys clothing.

Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table.

They head the click of the mail slot and the flop of letters on the doormat.

“Get the mail Dudley,” said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.

“Make Harri get it.”

“Get the mail, Harri.”

“Make Dudley get it.”

“Poke her with your Smelting stick, Dudley.”

Harri dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon’s sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and- _a letter for Harri._

Harri picked it up and stared at it, her heart twanging like a guitar. No one, ever, in her whole life, had written to her. Who would? She had no friends, no other relatives- she was never late returning her library books, so she’d never gotten a note asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake.

**Miss. H. Potter**

**The Cupboard under the Stairs**

**4 Privet Drive**

**Little Whinging**

**Surry**

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald green ink. There was no stamp. Turning the envelope over, her hand trembling, Harri saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger and a snake surrounding a large letter _H_.

“Hurry up, girl!” shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. “What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?” he chuckled at his own joke.

The feeling hit her again. The wrong feeling that said that she needed to make herself small and invisible. The Dursleys would take her letter. It was a letter that knew where she slept. A letter that would surely get her blamed for talking. She would be hit.

Quickly, she stashed the letter in her over-sized pockets before making her way into the kitchen. She handed Uncle Vernon the bill and postcard, sat down, and focused on making herself as small and unassuming as possible.

Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard.

“Marge’s ill,” he informed Aunt Petunia. “Ate a funny whelk.”

Breakfast continued on

When Harri went back to her cupboard after breakfast she was nearly vibrating with excitement. A letter for Harri! A letter that knew where she slept. How was that possible? She had never told anyone. Not ever. Before she had started primary school Uncle Vernon had taken her aside, holding her shoulders in his tight grip- face purple, and let her know what would happen if she talked to someone about her life at Privet Drive.

With trembling hands, Harri broke the wax seal and pulled out the letter.

 HOGWARTS SCHOOL

 _of_  WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

 Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chief Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)_

 

Dear Miss. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of necessary books and equipment. Term begins September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

_Deputy Headmistress_

 

It was a joke.

It had to be a joke. Harri? A witch? She would think that it was the Dursleys mocking her, but they didn’t approve of joking. It was too clever and too real for Dudley and his gang. No one at school would have bothered.

Who could have sent this to her?

Who could know where she slept and the deepest desire of her heart. To get away from Number 4 and every Dursley-ish thought.

  _Magic_

She had read so many books with magic. _The Lord of the Rings_ , _The Hobbit_ , _The Chronicles of Narnia_ , _Peter Pan_ , _Matilda, Tuck Everlasting._ The list went on. Harri knew all about books and magic.

The life of Harri Potter, potential witch, was one that seemed utterly impossible though. Shouldn’t she have been able to do something to stop the Dursleys from treating her this way? Shouldn’t she have been able to burst from her cupboard with furniture flying and have _made_ them put her in Dudley’s second bedroom? _Made_ them feed her more than stale food and table scraps.

But… Matilda hadn’t been able to do magic even though her parents made her miserable. It had taken more. It had taken the itch in the throat, the tingle behind the eye. The rage.

Harri didn’t have rage at the Dursleys anymore. It just wasn’t there. She had a resigned hatred. A pitiful kind of feeling, that made her think of a dog who got hit too many times. She wanted to bite, but she couldn’t stop herself from flinching at the thought of Uncle Vernon’s big beefy fist hitting her face.

Harri thought about the _magic_ , and she knew now that was what it was, that she had done in her life. Her invisible shield, making her hair grow back, _sending a boa constrictor to Brazil!_ It was real. This letter was real.

Harri Potter was a witch!

This school though, Hogwarts, Harri wasn’t sure how she could ever dream of going. She didn’t have money to buy and school supplies. The Dursleys wouldn’t pay for any of it either. She didn’t even have a way to get to Hogwarts. She didn’t know what ‘await your owl’ meant.

That meant then that unless a miracle occurred Harri Potter was a witch who would have a very unwitchy life in Surry.

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, when the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon called for Harri to go and get the mail again. She got up without complaint.

There was only one piece of post today. Once again, it was a letter for Harri. It had no stamp. Harri looked around desperately. There was no one about.

Harri picked up the letter, and had a very queer thought. What if she gave this to the Dursleys? How would they react? They didn’t know about the first letter. Her hands began to shake, but that feeling inside said that this was what she should do. She should, in apparent innocence, let the Dursleys see this letter.

She went back to the table, and with a trembling voice said, “It’s a letter for me.” Uncle Vernon jerked it sharply out of her hands.

“Who’d be writing to you,” sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn’t stop there. Within seconds it was the grayish white of old porridge.

“P-P-Petunia!” he gasped.

Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high out of his reach. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise.

“Vernon! Oh my goodness- Vernon!”

They knew. Harri understood that with perfect clarity now. They knew that she was a witch. They didn’t think this was a joke. They were horrified because it was true.

They stared at each other seeming to have forgotten that Harri and Dudley were still in the room. Dudley wasn’t used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick.

“I want to read the letter,” he said loudly.

Realizing that if her act was to be believed, she needed to look like she _also_ wanted to read the letter. “I want to read it,” she said as furiously as she could, “as it’s mine.”

“Get out, both of you,” croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope.

Harri didn’t move.

Did she come clean? Say that she already knew about Hogwarts and magic? What would happen? Would they lock her away? Would life get worse? Or would it give her hope of actually attending the school?

She didn’t have time to make a decision though, as Uncle Vernon forcibly pushed her and Dudley from the room.  “OUT” he roared, slamming the kitchen door behind them.

Harri and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Dudley won, so Harri, her glasses dangling from one ear, lay flat on her stomach to listen at the crack between the door and floor.

“Vernon,” Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, “look at the address- how could they possibly know where she sleeps? You don’t think they’re watching the house?”

“Watching- spying- might be following us,” muttered Uncle Vernon wildly.

“But what should we do Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don’t want-”

They knew how to write back? How? Harri prayed that they would give her some hint, some idea. She wanted to write back. Maybe someone would send help. They obviously wanted her to attend enough to send two letters.

“No,” he said finally. “No, we’ll ignore it. If they don’t get any answer… Yes, that’s best… we won’t do anything…”

“But-”

“I’m not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn’t we swear when we took her in we’d stamp out that dangerous nonsense?”

Harri stood up, she needed to be outside.

She left the house through the front door and began to wander as she often did on these summer days.

The Dursleys knew that she was a witch. They had known since the moment they had taken her in. Did that mean that her parents were also a witch and wizard? If they had magic, how was it that they were dead? How could they have died in a car crash?

But was it a car crash after all? The green light in her memory had never matched up. Could the Dursleys have lied about her parents had died too? Of course they could. That was apparently all they had ever done. They lied.

At least she finally had an answer now as to why they had never loved her. She was a witch and they had always known. It was gratifying to know that there was a reason.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia seemed convinced that someone was watching the house. Would they come talk to her if she asked? Feeling more than a little silly standing in the lawn of Number 4 (Uncle Vernon’s car was gone by now, he must have left for work while Harri wandered), Harri said, “Hello?”

Nothing happened.

“Umm… er…. If you’re listening I’ve read the letter. But I don’t understand how to get to school. Can you help?”

Harri stood and waited. Nothing.

She went back inside.

* * *

That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he’d never done before; he visited Harri in her cupboard.

Harri wanted to rail at him, but found that she just shrank against the back of her cupboard and stared at her Uncle with wide eyes.

“That letter,” he began, “was addressed to you by mistake. I have burned it.”

“It was not a mistake,” Harri said in a hoarse voice. “It had my cupboard on it.”

“SILENCE!” yelled Uncle Vernon, and a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling. He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which looked quite painful.

“Er- yes, Harri- about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking… you’re really getting a bit big for it… we think it might be nice if you moved into Dudley’s second bedroom.”

They were afraid, Harri realized. They didn’t like that the magic people knew that she was sleeping in a cupboard. They didn’t want to be found out, to seem anything less than respectable.

“Why?” she asked anyway. What would he let slip?

“Don’t ask questions!” snapped her uncle. “Move this stuff upstairs now.”

The Dursleys’ house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vernon’s sister, Marge), one where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn’t fit into his first bedroom. It only took Harri one trip upstairs to move everything she owned from the cupboard to this room. She sat down on the bed and stared around herself. Everything was broken. The month-old video camera, Dudley’s first ever television set (which he’d put his foot through), a large birdcage that had once held a parrot. Other shelves were full of books. They were the only things in the room that weren’t broken. Harri had read many of them, sneaking upstairs to grab one or two and bringing them down to her cupboard. Well, now at least she wouldn’t need to sneak the books.

From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother. “I don’t want her in there… I need that room… make her get out.”

Harri sighed and stretched out on the bed. She was certain that the Dursleys would not make her get out. She was quickly realizing that they hated magic. That whoever was sending these letters had put them on edge. They were afraid. More afraid of magic then they were of Dudley’s tantrums.

* * *

Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock. He’d screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and he still didn't have his room back. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly.

When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Harri, made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted, “There’s three of them! ‘Miss. H. Potter, The smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive-”

With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and raced down the hall, Harri right behind him. Maybe whoever sent the letters would be outside, and she could try and get them to talk to her now. Maybe they were still watching the house!

After a minute of confusion- Harri trying to get outside and Uncle Vernon grappling with Dudley and the Smelting stick- Uncle Vernon blocked the way with the letters in hand.

“Go to your cupboard- I mean, your bedroom,” he wheezed at Harri. “Dudley- go- just go.”

Harri walked around and round her new room. They knew she had moved rooms. They were definitely watching the house. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were right about that. Maybe she would go to this Hogwarts after all. It didn’t seem like whoever was sending the letters was giving up yet.

* * *

Uncle Vernon did not go to work that day. He stayed home and nailed up the mail slot. Harri was not allowed outside.

“See,” he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, “if they can’t deliver them they’ll just give up.”

“I’m not sure that’ll work, Vernon.”

“Oh, these people’s minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they’re not like you and me,” said Uncle Vernon, trying to knock in a nail with the piece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him.

 _T_ _hey won’t give up,_ Harri thought. _This school, these people, they want me._ Something in Harri’s heart loosened.

On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Twenty-four letters to Harri found their way into the house rolled up and hidden inside each of the two dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window. While Uncle Vernon made furious telephone calls to the post office and the dairy trying to find someone to complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food processor.

“Who on earth wants to talk to you this badly?” Dudley asked Harri in amazement.

“I think they knew my parents,” was all Harri said in response.

* * *

On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy.

“No post on Sundays,” he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, “no damn letters today-”

Harri was fairly certain that magic did not stop working just because it was Sunday, and was quickly proven right when something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as Uncle Vernon spoke, and caught him sharply on the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked, but Harri simply stood there in amazement.

“Out! OUT!”

Uncle Vernon seized Harri around the waist and threw her into the hall. Harri didn’t care, and quickly ran for outside. Were they on the roof sending letters down?

But Uncle Vernon grabbed her by the arm again as Aunt Petunia and Dudley came running out of the kitchen, shutting the door behind them.

“That does it,” said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly, but pulling great tufts out of his mustache at the same time. “I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We’re going away. Just pack some clothes. No argument!”

He looked so dangerous with half his mustache missing that no one dared argue. Ten minutes later they had wrenched their way through the boarded up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway. Dudley was sniffling in the back seat; his father had hit him round the head for holding them up while he tried to pack his television, VCR, and computer in his sports bag.

They drove. And they drove. Even Aunt Petunia didn’t dare ask where they were going. Every now and then Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while.

Uncle Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy-looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. Harri didn’t sleep well that night, she lay awake and prayed that she would be found by the magic. The light feeling in her chest could only be described as hope.

They ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast the next day. They had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to their table.

“Scuse me, but is one of you Miss. H Potter? Only I got about a ‘undred of these at the front desk.”

She held up a letter so they could read the green ink address:

**_Miss. H. Potter_ **

**_Room 17_ **

**_Railview Hotel_ **

**_Cokeworth_ **

Harri felt her heart give a lurch of unbridled joy. The magic had followed her after all.

“I’ll take them,” said Uncle Vernon, standing up quickly and following her from the dining room.

* * *

“Wouldn’t it be better just to go home, dear?” Aunt Petunia suggested timidly, hours later, but Uncle Vernon didn’t seem to hear her. By the end of the day, they found themselves on a little boat heading out to sea.

It was freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces. After what seemed like hours they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken down house.

The inside was horrible, it smelled, the fireplace was damp and empty, and there were only two rooms.

Dinner was a bag of chips a banana each.

Uncle Vernon was in a good mood, convinced that nobody stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. Harri knew though, down to her bones, that this was it. Every good story said that this would be the place where something climatic happened.

As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the windows. It raged more ferociously as the night went on, and Harri huddled under the thinnest blanket on the floor.  

Harri would be eleven at midnight. She watched the dial on Dudley’s watch as it clicked down. She listed to the wild wind and the creaking of the shack on the rock. She would go to sleep once it was her birthday. The watch clicked over, it was midnight.

BOOM

The whole shack shook, and Harri sat bolt upright. Excitement flooded her. This was it. The magic was here. Someone was knocking to come in.


	3. The Keeper of the Keys

Boom. They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake.

“Where’s the cannon?” he asked stupidly.

There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands- Harri had forgotten the long, thin package he had brought with them.

“Who’s there?” he shouted. “I warn you- I’m armed!”

There was a pause. Then-

SMASH!

The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges, and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor.

A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair.  

The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at them all.

“Couldn’t make us a cup o’tea could yeh? It’s not been an easy journey….”

He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear.

“Budge up, yeh great lump,” said the stranger.

Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.

“An here’s Harriet!” said the giant.

Harri looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile. One of the first genuine smiles she had ever seen directed at her.

“Las’ time I saw you, you were only a baby,” said the giant “Yeh look a lot like your dad in the face, but yeh’ve got your mom’s hair.” It was the first description she had ever received of her parents. She looked like her father. Her mother had red hair, just like she’d always imagined. This man, this giant, had known her parents. Remembered how they looked. Could say which parts of Harri belonged to whom. She was awash with emotion.

Uncle Vernon ruined it of course. “I demand that you leave at once sir!” he said. “You're breaking and entering!”

“Ah shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune,” said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon’s hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into the corner of the room.

Uncle Vernon made a funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.

“Anyway- Harriet,” said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, “A very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here- I mighta sat on it at some point, but it’ll taste all right.”

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Harri opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with _Happy Birthday Harriet_ written in green icing.

Harri looked up at the giant. She meant to say thank you, but paused as she felt something wet sliding down her cheek. She was crying. She reached up and touched the tears, feeling overwhelmed.  The giant looked confused.

“I’m sorry,” said Harri. “It’s just, I’ve never gotten a birthday cake before.”

The giant looked outraged. “What!” he exclaimed.

“It’s so lovely. Thank you… Oh, but I don’t know your name!”

The giant seemed like he was trying to collect himself. “True,” he said finally. “I haven’t introduced myself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts.”

He held out an enormous hand and shook Harri’s whole arm.

“What about that tea then, eh?” he said, rubbing his hands together. “I’d not say no ter summat stronger if yeh’ve got it, mind.”

His eyes fell on the empty grate, and he snorted. He bent down over the fireplace; they couldn't’ see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later there was a roaring fire there. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light and Harri felt the warmth wash over her as though she’d sunk into a hot bath.

“Magic,” she whispered to herself. Aunt Petunia heard, and shot her a dark look.

Hagrid sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking tea things out of pockets. Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon said sharply, “Don’t touch anything he gives you, Dudley.”

The giant chuckled darkly.

“Yer great puddin’ of a son don’ need fattenin’ anymore, Dursley, don’ worry.”

He passed the sausages to Harri, who was so hungry she had never tasted anything so wonderful, but she still couldn’t take her eyes off of Hagrid. Would he do more magic? Finally, as no one seemed about to explain anything else, she said, “I’m sorry, but I still don’t really know who you are.”

The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Call me Hagrid,” he said, “everyone does. An’ like I told yeh. I’m Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts- yeh’ll know all about Hogwarts, o’ course.”

“Only what was in the letter. I don’t know anything else,” said Harri. Uncle Vernon made a sound, that made it clear that he assumed Harri hadn't read any of the letters.

Hagrid looked shocked.

“Sorry,” Harri said quickly.

“ _S_ _orry?_ ” barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. “It’s them as should be sorry! I knew yeh didn’t have a way to respond, but I never thought yeh wouldn’t even know where yer parents learned it all?”

“Magic?” Harri asked excitedly. “My parents learned magic at Hogwarts!?”

“Of course magic!” said Hagrid looking perplexed. “Don’t you know about _our_ world?” he asked.

“Not really,” Harri confessed. “I just know that sometimes strange things happen around me. The letter explained that. And when my Aunt and Uncle seemed to know what was going on, well I figured that my parents must have been magic too.”

“Yeh don’t know… about your parents?” Hagrid asked. “I mean, they’re famous. You’re famous.”

“What? My- my mum and dad weren’t famous were they?”

“Yeh don’ know… yeh don’ know..” Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Harri with a bewildered stare.

“I know I’m a witch,” Harri said with more confidence than she felt

“Stop!” Uncle Vernon commanded. “Stop right there sir! I forbid you to tell the girl anything!”

A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid now gave him; when Hagrid spoke again “You never told her? Never told her what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer her? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An’ you’ve kept it from her all these years?”

“Kept what from me?” asked Harri.

“STOP! I FORBID YOU!” yelled Uncle Vernon in panic.

“You’re a witch Harriet,” Hagrid confirmed, ignoring Uncle Vernon. “a thumpin’ good one I’d say once yeh’ve been trained up a bit. With a mum an’ dad like yours, what else would yeh be?”

Questions exploded inside of Harri’s head. She had been right. She was a witch. She asked the first question that came to her mind. “Since you knew my parents… I don’t suppose you could tell me what their names were?”

Hagrid looked horrified. And then his eyes softened looking at her. It was pity, she realized. The teachers at school sometimes looked at her like this. Harri didn't like pity. But maybe this time it would be different. Maybe this time, someone would help her.

“James Potter was your dad’s name. And yur mum was Lily Evans.” Lily. The name rang through her ears.

Lily. Lily. Lily.

James and Lily Potter.

Her parents. Who she looked like.

“Gallopin’ Gorgons, I nearly forgot,” said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse. From another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled out an owl- a real live rather ruffled looking owl- a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that Harri could read upside down:

 

**Dear Professor Dumbledore,**

**Given Harriet her letter.**

**Taking her to buy her things tomorrow.**

**Weather’s horrible. Hope you’re well.**

**Hagrid**

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone.

Harri thought that mail by owl wasn’t very practical. Surely magic could come up with something faster than bird post.

“Where was I?’ said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.

“She’s not going,” he said.

Hagrid grunted. “I’d like ter see a great Muggle like you stop her,” he said.

“A what?” asked Harri, interested.

“A Muggle,” said Hagrid, “it’s what we call nonmagic folk like them. An’ it’s your bad luck you grew up in a family o’ the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on."

“We swore when we took her in we’d put a stop to that rubbish,” said Uncle Vernon, “swore we’d stamp it out of her! Witch indeed!”

“So you did know,” Harri said, as calmly as she could manage. The simmering itchy feeling was there again. The rage.

“Of course we knew,” shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. “How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that- that school- and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was- a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!”

She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had been wanting to say all this for years.

“Then she met that Potter at school, claimed that some tattoo she had gotten said they were meant to be together! They got married and had you, and of course I knew you’d be just the same, just as strange, just as- as- abnormal- and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!”

“I KNEW IT” Harri shouted. “I KNEW YOU LIED. For years I’ve been seeing green light when I tried to remember! I knew that was no car accident.” The shack was shaking now. Harri knew it was the itch. It was her anger making this happen. She took several deep breaths.

“You remember that, Harriet?” Hagrid asked… he seemed quiet now. He was looking like he hadn’t expected her to say that.

“Yes,” Harri said. “Does the light mean something?”

“Oh I shoudn’ say nothin ‘bout that,” Hagrid responded looking dark.

“But why? What happened?” Harri asked urgently.

“That light... “ Hagrid began, “It’s from a spell. It’s called the Killing Curse. Avada Kedavra”

“So someone… someone killed my parents?”

“I never expected this,” he said with a low, worried voice. “I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me that there might be trouble gettin’ hold of yeh, how much yeh didn’t know. Ah Harriet, I don’t know if I’m the right person ter tell yeh- but someone’s gotta- yeh can’t go off ter Hogwarts not knowin’.”

He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys.

“Well, it’s best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh- mind, I can’t tell yeh everything’, it’s a great myst’ry, parts of it…”

He sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, “It begins, I suppose, with- with a person called- but it’s incredible yeh don’t know his name, everyone in our world knows-”

“Who?”

“Well- I don’ like sayin’ the name if I can help it. No one does.”

“Why not?”

“Gulpin’ gargoyles, Harriet, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See there was this wizard who went… bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was…”

Hagrid gulped, not no words came out.

“Could you write it down?” Harri suggested.

“Nah- can’t spell it. All right- Voldemort.” Hagrid shuddered.

Harri felt something coil inside of her. It was a queasy feeling. She felt as if she was missing something. Like there was something in the air that tinged in tingled. Was this magic? Was she feeling a magical reaction to the name of her parent’s killer?

“Don’ make me say it again. Anyway, this- this wizard about twenty years ago now, started lookin’ for followers. He was the new Dark Lord- so he got ‘em too- some were afraid, some just wanted power. Dark days, Harriet. Didn’t know who ter trust, didn’t dare get friendly with stranger wizards or witches… terrible things happened. He was takin’ over. ‘Course, some stood up to him- ‘an he killed ‘em. Horribly. One o’ the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore’s the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of- bein' the Lord o' Light 'an all. Didn’t dare try takin’ the school, not jus’ then, anyway.”

“Now, yer mum an’ dad were as good a witch and wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an’ girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the mystery is why You-Know-Who never tried to get ‘em on his side before… probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin’ ter do with the Dark Side.”

“Maybe he thought he could persuade ‘em… maybe he just wanted ‘em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween ten yeras ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an’- an’-”

Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn.

“Sorry,” he said, “But it’s that sad- knew yer mum an’ dad, an’ nicer people yeh couldn’t find- anyway…”

“You-Know-Who killed ‘em. An’ then- an’ this is the real myst’ry of the thing- he tried to kill you, too!”

“What?” Harri asked, shocked. Shouldn’t she be dead then?

“He couldn’t do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That’s what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh- but it didn’t work on you, an’ that’s why yer famous, Harriet. No one ever lived after he decided ter kill ‘em, no one except you, an’ he’d killed some o’ the best witches an’ wizards of the age.”

Something very painful was going on in Harri’s mind. As Hagrid’s story came to a close, she saw again the blinding flash of green light. Avada Kedavra as Hagrid had called it. It was clearer than it had ever been before. And she remembered something else, for the first time in her life: a high, cold, cruel laugh.

The magic around her sizzled. Her hair began to sway. She felt the vibration of the rock shaking again. Harri felt- well- too much for one girl to feel. It was all insane. There was certainly no way that she could have stopped a curse that was meant to kill. Not if her parents had died from it first.

She had been a baby.

“Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore’s orders. Brought yeh ter this lot…”

“Load of old tosh,” said Uncle Vernon. Harri jumped; she had almost forgotten that the Dursleys were there. Uncle Vernon certainly seemed to have gotten his courage back. He was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were clenched.

“Now, you listen here, girl.” he snarled, “I accept there’s something strange about you, probably nothing another beating wouldn't have cured…”

But he didn’t finish. Harri felt the tingle behind her eye, the scratch in the back of her throat. She knew, suddenly, that she had power.

So she used it.

Uncle Vernon was upside down in a flash.

“Never speak like that to me again,” Harri said. It was her first moment of bravery against her Uncle in years. “My parents are dead. They died! And all you lot did was treat me like a dog. Why couldn’t you have cared at all? I never was bad! But you couldn’t, could you? I was was nothing to you, even as a baby, I was nothing!”

Hagrid placed a hand on Harri’s shoulder, and she felt the rage inside of her slow to a low thrum. Uncle Vernon dropped back down to the floor.

Uncle Vernon stood, and he ushered Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room. They closed the door firmly. Harri was alone with Hagrid.

Harri took several deep breaths. She felt the magic fade away.

“That’s more control than I expected,” Hagrid told her.

“I… I don’t know how to make it happen really. It’s only when I’m upset.”

“That’s normal,” Hagrid assured her. “You’ll figure it out better once you have a wand and some practice.”

“What happened to Vol- sorry- I mean You-Know-Who?” Harri asked when she had collected herself.

“Good question, Harriet. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That’s the biggest myst’ry see… he was gettin’ more an’ more powerful- why’d he go.”

“Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he’s still out there, bidin’ his time, like, but I don’ believe it. People who were on his side came back ter ours. Some of ‘em came outta kind of trances. Don’ reckon they could’ve done if he was commin’ back.”

“Most of us reckon he’s still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. ‘Cause somethin’ about you finished him, Harriet. There was somethin’ goin’ on that night he hadn’t counted on- I dunno what it was, no one does- but somethin’ about you stumped him all right.”

Hagrid looked at Harri with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes. It was so strange to see affection like that in his face. No one had ever looked at Harri that way before.

“Hagrid… Just so you know… I usually go by Harri. Not Harriet. Or at least, I’d like to have friends call me Harri.”

Hagrid kept looking at Harri with warmth. “That blanket is too thin for you,” he said gruffly. “Sleep under my coat Harri.” He shrugged off his greatcoat and draped it over her shoulders. Harri felt the warmth of the fire, the warmth of the coat, and the warmth of Hagrid’s gaze.

She was going to Hogwarts, she would learn to be a witch, and she would make her parents proud.

Harri wasn’t sure what to call the feeling welling inside of her now.

She would almost call it happiness.


	4. Diagon Alley

Harri woke early the next morning. Although she could tell it was daylight, she kept her eyes shut tight.

 _It was a dream_ , she thought to herself. _I dreamed that a giant came to take me to Hogwarts. That I caused Uncle Vernon to flip upside down. That I’m someone people care about_.

There was a sudden loud tapping noise.

 _And there’s Aunt Petunia knocking on the door_ , Harri thought, her heart sinking. But she still didn’t open her eyes. It had been such a good dream.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“I’m up,” she called, sitting up.

Hagrid’s heavy coat fell off her. The hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak. Harri scrambled to her feet, so happy she felt as though a large balloon was swelling inside her. She went straight to the window and jerked it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn’t wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid’s coat.

“Hagrid!” said Harri loudly. “There’s an owl-”

“Pay him,” Hagrid grunted into the sofa.

“What?”

“He wants payin’ fer deliverin’ the paper. Look in the pockets.”

Hagrid’s coat seemed to be made of pockets. It took a bit of looking before finally Harri pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins.

“Give him five knuts,” said Hagrid sleepily.

“Knuts?”

“The little bronze ones.”

Harri counted out five little bronze coins, and the owl held out his leg so Harri could put the money into a small pouch. Then he flew off through the open window.

Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched.

“Best be off, Harri, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an’ buy all yer stuff fer school.”

Harri was turning over the wizard coins and looking at them. She ruminated on the horrible truth she had gone over again and again. She didn’t have any money. The Dursleys certainly weren’t going to pay for anything.

“Hagrid… I haven’t got any money.”

“Don’t worry about that,” said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his head. “D’yeh think yer parents didn’t leave yeh anything?”

“But if their house was destroyed-”

“They didn’t keep their gold in the house girl! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizard Bank. Have a sausage, they’re not bad cold- an’ I wouldn’t say no teh a bit o’ yer birthday cake, neither.”

“Wizards have banks!” Harri exclaimed in excitement. She would have money! What an amazing thing. She could, maybe, buy clothes that fit. She could look like a normal person instead of a scrawny girl in too large clothes that always made her look scrawnier than she was.

“Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins.”

Harri dropped the bit of sausage she was holding.

“ Goblins? ”

“Yeah- so yeh’d be mad ter try an’ rob it, I’ll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, Harri. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe- ‘cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o’ fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business.” Hagrid drew himself up proudly.

“Got everythin’? Come on then.”

Harri followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was still there, with a lot of water in the bottom after the storm.

“How did you get here?” Harri asked, looking around for another boat.

“Flew,” said Hagrid.

“Flew?”

“Yeah, but we’ll go back in this. Not s’pposed ter use magic now I’ve got yeh.”

“But how will the Dursleys get back if we take the boat?” Harri asked, vaguely alarmed about stranding her relatives.

“We’ll get the chap at the boathouse to row it back fer ‘em,” Hagrid assured.

Harri felt a bit better about abandoning her relatives in such a strange, dank location. “Seems a shame ter row, though,” said Hagrid, giving Harri a sideways look.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” said Harri quickly, eager to see more magic. Hagrid pulled out his pink umbrella, and they were quickly on their way.

Harri learned a lot from Hagrid on their way to the station. She learned about Gringotts, the Ministry of Magic, even dragons. She wasn’t sure how muggles had learned to ignore dragons if they were flying around. Hagrid assured her that muggles didn’t notice much of anything. It seemed… the wrong kind of thing to say.

Harri might not like the Dursleys, but she knew that not all muggles were bad. Knew they had invented a good deal of useful technology and were capable of a good many things. When she said as much, Hagrid shrugged, “Magic int’feres with anything like that. Wizards don’t have much luck with muggle things.”

That explained the computers that she had never been able to use.

When they reached the station, there was a train to London in five minutes time. Hagrid, who didn’t understand “Muggle money,” as he called it, gave the bills to Harri so she could buy their tickets. She felt a little uneasy about the way that Hagrid spoke about the muggle world. The only world she had ever known.

People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent. Where had he kept that? Were Hagrid’s pockets magic?

“Do you have a copy of yer letter Harri?” Hagrid asked as he counted stitches.

Harri nodded and took the parchment envelope out of one of her pockets.

“Good,” said Hagrid. “Have you looked over the list of what yeh need?”

Harri had.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

 

**Uniform**

First-year students will require

1\. Three sets of plan work robes (black)

2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3\. One pair protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

5\. One mark cover (silver)

Please note that all pupils’ clothes should carry name tags

  **Course Books**

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

 _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_ by Miranda Goshawk

 _A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot

 _Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling

 _A Beginners’ Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch

 _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore

 _Magical Drafts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger

 _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander

 _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ by Quentin Trimble

**Suggested Books**

_Soul Marks: A Young Person's Guide_ by Bethany Blaylock

**Other Equipment**

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set of glass or crystal vials

1 telescope

1 set of brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

 

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS

ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

 

“Can we buy all this in London?” Harri wondered aloud.

“If yeh know where to go,” said Hagrid.

* * *

Harri had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. Harri had to constantly intervene, he stuck out like a sore thumb! He got stuck in the ticket barrier, spoke loudly of muggles, and almost knocked into a concession cart while talking with his very large hands.

“I don’t know how the Muggles manage without magic,” he said as they climbed the broken-down escalator that led up to bustling road lined with shops.

"Well enough, really!” Harri assured. “I don’t know if you’re giving them enough credit. Look how fast we were able to travel from one side of England to the other.”

“Pish Posh,” Hagrid said dismissively. “With magic, we could have been in the Alley in a moment, instead of hours.”

Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Harri had to do was stay close. They passed all kinds of stores, and Harri made a note of several clothing stores she wouldn’t mind visiting if she had enough time and money. Stores that Aunt Petunia would scoff at for Harri to shop in. Any girls clothes that Harri owned were from consignment and used shops.

“This is it,” said Hagrid, coming to a halt, “the Leaky Cauldron. It’s a famous place.”

It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn’t pointed it out, Harri wouldn’t have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn’t glance at it. Magic, Harri thought. It was magic to make the muggles not notice. She felt uneasy again. It felt…. Wrong somehow.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in the corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, “The usual, Hagrid?”

“Can’t, Tom, I’m on Hogwarts business,” said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Harri’s shoulder and making her knees buckle.

“Good Lord,” said the bartender, peering at Harri, “is that- can this be-?”

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent. Harri had to stop herself from pulling her 'Harri Shields' around herself. She had the overwhelming urge to run or hide. Don’t look at me, she wanted to shout.

Everyone was looking.

“Bless my soul,” whispered the old bartender, “Harriet Potter… what an honor.”

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harri and seized her hand, tears in his eyes.

“Welcome back, Miss. Potter, welcome back.”

Harri didn’t know what to say. Everyone was looking at her. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming.

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harri found herself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

“Doris Crockford, Miss. Potter, can’t believe I’m meeting you at last.”

“So proud, Miss. Potter, I’m just so proud.”

“Always wanted to shake your hand- I’m all a flutter.”

A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching. “Y-you look a-a-lmost t-translucent Miss. Potter,” he said.

Harri realized in the panic she had started to gather her magic around herself. She felt overwhelmingly uncomfortable with all these people shaking her hand. Thanking her for something she had no memory of. Thanking her for the night her parents were murdered.

“Professor Quirrell!” Hagrid said. “Harri, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts.”

Harri took a deep breath and let her magic dissipate. She was safe, she was fine.

“C-can’t t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you.” He grasped Harri’s hand

“What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?”

“D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts,” muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he’d rather not think about it.

Harri had to try very hard to not let her magic gather around her again as more people kept coming up to meet her. Finally, a blissful relief really, Hagrid managed to make himself heard.

“Must get on- lots ter buy. Come on Harriet.”

Harri couldn’t believe the sight of Diagon Alley.

The sun shone brightly here, in huge contrast to the pub the had just left. The shops looked bright and cheerful. There were all sorts of items for sale in clearly displayed windows. Caludorns, books, ice cream even! Harri spotted an Apothecary, an Owl Emporium, and even a broomstick shop! It was strange to think that the myth of brooms was actually true when it came to wizards. There were several street carts too. They were selling snacks, odd-looking trinkets, and almost all of them had some kind of bracelet.

As Harri looked around she realized that almost everyone was wearing a bracelet or ribbon around their wrist. Even Hagrid, she was shocked to see, had some kind of bandage on his left wrist.

“Hagrid,” Harri said suddenly very self-conscious, “why does everyone have a bracelet on their wrist?”

“Galloping Gargoyles,” Hagrid stopped dead in his tracks. “I forgot about one of ‘te most important things!”

He fixed Harri with a very serious look. “‘Ts not polite to talk ‘bout. Ever. I’ll try and explain it teh yeh later. Before you get yur wand.”

Harri was only more curious now. One of the most important things?

They came upon a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold was-

“Yeah, that’s a goblin,” said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Harri. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Harri noticed, very long fingers and feet. The goblin did not have anything covering his wrist.

 

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors,_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

* * *

They exited Gringotts some time later with more money than Harri had ever dreamed of having. Her vault was piled high with gold. Hagrid had assured her that what she had taken was probably enough for three years of purchases, let alone one. But Harri knew she had a lot to buy. She had never had the resources to look like a normal girl before, and it was one of her dearest wishes. Not to mention there were so many books to buy! How was she ever going to understand the wizarding world? She felt like a stranger, an outsider looking in. Everything she knew was muggle, and judging by the dismissive way Hagrid talked about muggles, that wasn’t going to get her very far in the wizarding world.

Hagrid had also made a stop at a high-security vault to take a grubby looking package from vault 713. He implored her to not mention the package to anyone at Hogwarts.

“Might as well get yer uniform,” said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. “Listen, Harri, would ye mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts.” He did look a bit sick, so Harri entered Madam Malkin’s shop alone.

Madame Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

“Hogwarts, dear?” she said when Harri started to speak. “Got the lot here- a young man being fitted up just now in fact.”

“Well, yes Ma’am. But also, I was wondering if you knew where I could get some other clothes. I don’t have many that fit you see.”

Madame Malkin appraised her silently for a moment, “Of course dear. What all do you think you need, we have it all here.”

“Well, everything honestly. How much would a new wardrobe cost?”

Madame Malkin told her the price for all her Hogwarts apparel plus several dresses, jumpers, underthings, slacks, skirts, and vests. It almost seemed odd that Hogwarts didn’t have a school uniform and that regular clothing was just worn under the robes. Harri also requested a set of emerald green robes. It might be nice, she thought, to wear something different now and again when out in the wizarding world.

Harri didn’t blink at the price and paid half upfront. Madame Malkin took her in the back to start getting her measurements and to start fitting the different robes.

“Hello,” said a pale boy with a pointed face, standing on the footstool next to Harri. “Hogwarts, too?”

“Yes,” said Harri.

“My father’s next door buying my books and mother’s up the street looking at Mark Covers,” said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. “Then I’m going to get my wand. I can’t wait to see what it says! Then I’ll bully father into getting me a broom, I’ll smuggle it in somehow”

Harri was strongly reminded of Dudley. What was a mark cover? Was that the thing all the adults had on their wrist? Hagrid had mentioned talking about it before Harri got her wand.

“Have you got your own broom?” the boy went on.

“No,” said Harri. “I’ve never flown before.”

The boy looked aghast. “Are you Muggle-Born,” the boy asked, looking scandalized.

There it was again, the strange reaction to all things muggle.

“My parents were a witch and wizard if that’s what you mean,” she said, “but I grew up with Muggles.” She felt a little defiant about the way the boy had said Muggle-Born. Like it was a bad thing. Like it was beneath him.

“Why on Earth would you have grown up with Muggles? Where are your parents?” the boy asked with a slight sneer.

“They’re dead,” said Harri shortly. She didn’t really want to keep talking to this boy.

“Oh sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “What is your family name then?” he asked.

Before Harri could answer the assistant said to the pale boy, “That’s you done, my dear,” and the boy hopped down from the footstool.

“Well, I’ll see you at Hogwarts I suppose,” he said and left.

When they were alone in the back Madame Malkin said gently, “My mother was a Muggle.”

Harri looked at her, startled that she would mention anything about that. “You’ll meet a lot of people who dismiss everything Muggle,” the seamstress went on. “But I know that my mother was brilliant. She taught me to sew and how to make clothing.”

“My relatives,” Harri said carefully, “they weren’t the best kinds of Muggles. But I’ve met plenty of okay ones.”

“There’s plenty of good and bad everywhere,” the witch agreed. “Now run along Miss. Potter. I have your measurements, and I’ll be done with your things in a few hours.”

Harri hadn’t said her name to the witch, but she had clearly known all along who Harri was. She hadn’t made Harri uncomfortable about it, which made her the nicest witch she’d met so far.

* * *

 Harri was rather quiet as she ate the ice cream Hagrid had bought her (chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts).

“What’s up?” said Hagrid.

“I was raised by muggles,” Harri said softly. “It’s all I know. The muggle world. There is so much here to this wizard world. And it seems like everything I know is useless. Or looked down on. Because it’s Muggle.”

Hagrid flushed and had the grace to look a little embarrassed. He must have realized all that he had said that day about Muggles in a dismissive fashion.

“Don’t worry about all that Harri. ‘M sorry if I made you feel that way. I don’ spend a lot o’ time in the Muggle world.”

Harri nodded, still thinking. “You’ll be a great witch Harri, I’m sure of it,” Hagrid assured her.

Looking up at Hagrid, Harri changed the subject. “What about these marks I keep hearing about?”

Hagrid looked deeply uncomfortable, but he explained. It was not easy to understand, but in the end, she thought she understood well enough. Magic gave everyone a match. They called it a soulmate. Hagrid wasn’t certain if it had anything to do with souls. "A gift from the tree, I'd wager," he said gruffly, whatever that meant.

When a witch or wizard bonded with their wand, the first words their soulmate would say to them would be imprinted on their wrists. Their soulmate didn’t have to be another magic user, a Muggle could say your words, but they wouldn’t have words on their wrist. The words would be the first words ever said, so if one met their soulmate before eleven those words would be there. It could cause some confusion. There was a spell that confirmed that the mark was true, which often helped settle matters when marks were vague, but it was complicated and not often performed.

Hagrid described it as a gift. The most intimate relationship of your life. For that reason, the words were guarded very carefully. Always kept covered except in the presence of one’s soulmate.

“Have you met your soulmate Hagrid?” Harri asked.

Hagrid blushed, “Yer not suppos’d to ask that Harri. It's all in the color. Silver means no, gold means yes.”

“I’m sorry!” she exclaimed. Feeling almost as uncomfortable as Hagrid looked. She glanced down and saw the silver bandage, half hidden by Hagrid's large coat.

* * *

They bought Harri’s school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather, books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk, and books full of peculiar symbols.

Hagrid had to drag Harri away from _Curses and Counter-Curses_ , but he did let Harri get _Hogwarts: A History_ and _Etiquette of the Wizarding World_ along with her course books.

Hagrid wouldn’t let Harri buy a trunk with an extra room for storage. “You don’t need somethin’ like that,” he said exasperatedly. But he did let her get one with three swapping compartments that disappeared and reappeared depending on which latch Harri opened. It had wheels as well, so Harri could trundle it along behind her.

Harri got her pewter cauldron, a nice set of scales, and a collapsible brass telescope. They visited the Apothecary, where Harri got the supplies needed for basic potions. Harri looked at unicorn horn and wondered how such a product was procured. They went back to Madam Malkins to pick up Harri’s new clothing, which she happily placed into one of the trunk compartments.

“Just yer wand left- oh yeah, an’ I still haven’t got yeh a birthday present.”

Harri felt herself go red.

“You don’t have to-”

“I know I don’t have to. Tell yeh what, I’ll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago. I don’t like cats, they make me sneeze. I’ll get yer an owl.”

“Hagrid, it’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer. But I don’t have anyone to write to. An owl would get very bored around me. And I happen to love cats. If you don’t mind!”

Hagrid seemed a little uncertain but agreed when he saw her hopeful face. “Must be a witch thing,” he muttered to himself.

Twenty minutes later, Harri was in possession of a handsome Tabby kitten. He was very sleek and very orange. The owner of the shop commented that the kitten was actually a kneazle, and would be much smarter than an average cat. Harri would have to look that up in her textbook. She was so pleased with the little fellow, and she couldn’t stop thanking Hagrid.

Hagrid seemed a bit dubious about the cat but was happy to have made Harri happy.

‘Don’ mention it,” said Hagrid gruffly. “Don’ expect you’ve had a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand! Not teh mention,” and here Hagrid glanced at Harri’s bare wrist.

A magic wand… this was what Harri had been really looking forward to. She wasn’t sure what she thought about the whole soulmark thing, but the wand. Magic! Controllable magic.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Harri felt very strange here. She could feel the magic swirling around. She could almost hear whispers from the different wands.

“Good afternoon,” said a soft voice. Harri jumped. Hagrid must have jumped as well because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the spindly chair.

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

“Hello,” said Harri awkwardly.

“Ah yes,” said the man. “Yes, Yes. I thought I’d be seeing you soon. Harriet Potter.” It wasn’t a question. “You have your mother’s hair. It seemed only yesterday she was here herself buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work.” Harri wished suddenly for a notepad to write that down on. Had her mother been good at charms?

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harri. Harri wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

“Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it-it’s really the wand that chooses the wizard of course.”

Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harri were almost nose to nose. Harri could see herself reflected in those misty eyes.

“And that’s where….”

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harri’s forward with a long, white finger.

Instantly, Harri’s shield of magic engulfed her. Mr. Ollivander was pushed back as Harri unconsciously pulled her magic around herself. She was nearly hyperventilating.

Mr. Ollivander only blinked. “Impressive. You’re nearly invisible my girl. Well, that will make this process a bit easier. That certainly eliminates a fair few of my wands.” he seemed very cheerful, not mad at all. He kept speaking, “I’m sorry to say that I sold the wand that did that to you,” he said softly. “Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands… well, if I’d known what that wand was going out into the world to do…”

He shook his head. Harri tried to calm herself while Mr. Ollivander talked to Hagrid about his own wand. Her theory that it was concealed in Hagrid’s pink umbrella was somewhat confirmed.

“Well, now- Miss. Potter. Let me see.” He pulled out a thick black ribbon and had her hold out her left wrist. He wrapped the ribbon around and tied it off with practiced ease.

“Which arm is your wand arm?”

“Er- well, I’m right-handed,” said Harri… and off the process went.

“Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we’ll find the perfect match here somewhere- I wonder, now- yes, why not- unusual combination- holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.”

Harri took the wand. She felt a sudden warmth in her fingers. A burning on her wrist. She raised the wand above her head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried,

“Oh, bravo!”

“Curious… curious…” Mr. Ollivander muttered while he wrapped up her wand.

“I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Miss Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand gave another feather- just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother- why, its brother gave you that scar.”

Harri was certain that she was nearly invisible again. This was the opposite of good news. This was horrible. Another link to Voldemort.

“Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember… I think we must expect great things for you, Miss. Potter… After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things- terrible, yes, but great. Do keep in mind that a brother wand is a bond, not to be taken lightly.”

A thought occurred to Harri. “He couldn’t have been Voldemort when you sold him that wand,” she said.

Mr. Ollivander got very still when she said the name. “No indeed,” he said softly. But Hagrid interrupted.

“Enough of that Harri,” and pulled her out of the shop after she had paid.

* * *

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Harri and Hagrid made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, and back into the Leaky Cauldron.

“Hagrid,” she said gently. “I don’t want to go back to the Dursleys. Do you think I could stay here?”

Hagrid looked very uncertain about this course of action. But he saw her face. He had seen how Harri reacted to sudden touches, too much attention, and loud noises.

“Le’s talk to Tom ‘bout that,” he said gruffly.

It was only later, in the privacy of the room she had rented at the Leaky Cauldron, that Harri was finally alone. She removed the ribbon Mr. Ollivander had wrapped around her wrist to see the words that should have appeared once her wand bonded.

The words ‘Avada Kedavra’ glared at her in emerald green.

Harri’s heart dropped.


	5. The Journey From Platform Nine and Three-Quarters

It couldn’t be.

Simply could not be. Harri wanted to scream. To rage. To blow everything up into bits. How was this possible?

 _Avada Kedavra_ stared back at her.

Was it possible she was misremembering what Hagrid had told her about the killing curse? Was there a way to find out? Where would such a spell me listed? Harri was sure it wasn’t among her first-year school books.

She did have one book that might help though. The recommended soulmark books. The information was limited at best. The book wasn’t more than 30 pages and was really more a pamphlet for muggle-born students. The black ribbon was used to cover a wrist while the wand bonded. Then, once the child had looked at their words, was (traditionally) replaced by either a silver or gold cover. Silver if the words were still unsaid, gold if a match had occurred.

There was nothing in the book that was helpful for the question of, ‘What to do if your soulmark matches you with the Dark Lord who murdered your parents?’.

She was feeling a bit hysterical. In an odd sort of humor, she wondered if she should wear the gold covering. Her words had been said, apparently. Harri started to laugh and then began to cry.

She cried until she fell asleep on her bed, her new tabby kitten perched watchfully next to her.

* * *

The next day Harri, dressed in her new clothes, went back to Diagon Alley. She even got to use her new wand to open the wall.

Her first order of business was to buy a wrist covering to replace the black ribbon which seemed dangerously fragile. She didn’t want anyone to ever know what her words were. She found a cart that sold pretty and feminine bangles that clasped firmly around the wrist. For five sickles a silver one belonged to her (tarnish proof, so she could even wear it even in the shower). As privately as she could in the back of Flourish and Blotts, Harri replaced the ribbon. No one saw, and as far as Harri was concerned no one needed to ever see her wrist again.

Her second order of business was to find the spell. As discreetly as she could Harri began to look through different texts.  _A Guide to Dark Forces_ didn’t have the spell. Neither did  _Darkest Works_. Though both had some rather gruesome pictures.

Finally, in  _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ Harri found mention of the spell. It was exactly what she feared.

_'It has long been believed that Harriet Potter was subjected to The Killing Curse (A. kedavra) by the Dark Lord. The reported scar that she received was examined by Albus Dumbledore after the event and was the basis for of the theory. Dumbledore’s testimony, along with countless wizards and witches being freed from various curses, has led to the commonly held belief that Harriet Potter is the only known survivor of the Killing Curse, and that somehow this ‘rebounding effect’ is what ended the reign of the Dark Lord.’_

Harri could feel her magic thrumming in her ears. It was beating with her heart. She took a deep breath. Calmed herself. This was bad news, but it could certainly be worse. By all accounts, her soulmate was very dead. Or at least as close to dead as someone could be. There was no reason to get worked up. It could be her secret.

Harri had always thought of herself as unlovable. Years of poor treatment by the Dursleys had ingrained that belief into her.  Her entrance into the magical world had tested her theory. It seemed that everyone loved her here. But now she had a secret that no one could know. Because if the world knew the truth Harri would be unlovable again.

* * *

Harri spent the remaining month of summer in a state of bliss. She resolutely ignored the marking on her wrist and had not looked at it since she had placed the silver bracelet on it.  

She had happily read through all of her textbooks seated in sunlight at Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour. Fortescue was a happy wizard, who gladly let Harri take up a table. She learned a stunning amount of information. From  _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ that her little Kneazle kitten was a loyal pet and that they had the uncanny ability to sense deception. Also from  _Fantastic Beasts,_ Harri found the name Gulliver, used in the dedication to a famous naturalist of birds.

Gulliver was a happy kitten but grew quickly. Soon he was too large to ride around on Harri’s shoulder. He seemed happy to prowl near her most of the time. He never wandered far and seemed to be hungry most of the time. As such he had become a prolific thief of her food.

Tom the barkeep made sure that Harri ate her meals, and didn’t seem bothered at all that an eleven-year-old girl was staying at his inn for a month. Harri had paid upfront, but she was sure Tom had undercharged her. Harri wasn’t used to charity and wasn’t sure how to respond.

Harri also wandered into muggle London. She exchanged some of her gold for pounds and went to the bookstore and music store that were both located outside of the Cauldron. Harri had never owned a guitar before but was now the proud owner of one (not to mentioned an unseemly amount of sheet music). She bought shoes and more clothes at a department store. She even got new glasses that suited her face shape better.  Harri was much happier with her appearance. She felt like she finally blended in, wearing simple clean clothes that suited her. She was invisible, no one would look at her and wonder about her appearance.

Every night before she went to sleep, Harri ticked off another day on the piece of paper she had pinned to the wall, counting down to September first.

* * *

 On the last day of August, she thought she’d better speak to Tom about getting to King’s Cross Station the next day, so she went down to the bar.

“Um, excuse me. Mr. Tom,” Harri stuttered.

“Yes, my dear,” Tom said with his toothless smile.

“Tomorrow I need to get to King’s Cross. Do you know the best way for me to accomplish that?” she asked.

“Oh, happens all the time! I’ll order you a car that will take you to the station tomorrow morning!”

Relieved that it would be that simple, Harri thanked the barkeep for all he had done for her over the last month. “I may be back for some of next summer,” she said half-jokingly.

Tom had a flash of concern cross his face but didn’t say anything but a hum. Harri wondered if she had given too much away. If her home life had become too apparent. Everyone seemed to know that she had been sent to live with muggles. She didn’t want to give the wrong impression about the muggle world, but she also didn’t want to go back to her relatives.

Harri looked down at her ticket before setting off for the station the next morning. “Oh,” she exclaimed. “Mr. Tom, what is platform 9 ¾?”

“It’s the hidden entrance,” he explained. “Just got through at one of the barriers between platforms 9 and 10.”

Harri made it to King’s Cross with plenty of time to spare. She was even able to slide through the magic barrier without too much trepidation.

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to the platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven o’clock. Harri looked behind her and saw a wrought iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words  _Platform Nine and Three-Quarters_ on it. She had done it.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Gulliver was perched on Harri’s trunk and didn’t seem overly inclined to move. Harri pushed her cart off down the platform in search on an empty seat. She passed a bushy haired girl who was accompanied by very concerned looking parents.

“Now Hermione, do find a way to write. Do you think there are… owls? There?” the mother asked, clearly confused.

“I’m not sure mum,” the girl confessed. She must be a first year, Harri thought, maybe a Muggle-Born. They look like Muggles. The girl's parents looked much more normal compared to the other adults that were around. They wore very smart business clothing. A far cry from the robes everyone else was wearing.

The bushy haired girl caught Harri looking at her family, and gave a slight smile. Harri tried to smile back, though she was embarrassed at being caught listening in. Her father noticed where the girl was looking. He glanced around, furrowed his brow, and spoke to Harri, “Do you need help getting your trunk on the train?”

Harri hadn’t thought about getting her trunk off the platform, but now that it occurred to her she realized it was far too heavy for her to lift alone. “Yes, thank you so much,” she replied.

The family walked over. “Hermione is sitting in this compartment,” the mother said. “Are you a first year too?”

The bushy haired girl, Hermione, looked abashed that her mother was trying to make a friend for her. “Mum…” she started but trailed off as Harri held out her hand.

“Hi Hermione, I’m Harri. I’m new too. And basically Muggle-Born” she said. Harri hoped her smile didn’t look forced, because the prospect of sitting near someone who also had no idea what was going on was very appealing.

A look of relief passed over the mother’s face, and Hermione also seemed to relax. “Hello Harri,” she responded. “Me as well. Nobody in my family’s magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it’s the best school of witchcraft there is, I’ve heard-” she trailed off looking abashed. She had a bossy sort of voice but was clearly as uncertain as Harri.

“I’ve heard that as well,” Harri said. “I read about it in…” and here Hermione joined her, “... _Hogwarts a History_.”

By this point, Hermione’s father had returned. “Well, it seems you’ve made a friend here, Hermione. Dan Granger,” he said to Harri, introducing himself.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both, Mr. and Mrs. Granger,” Harri replied.

“Are your parents about,” Mrs. Granger asked looking around.

“No,” Harri responded. She didn’t have a good response to this question and never had. What did you tell people? That your parents were dead? That they couldn't make it? “I live with my relative,” she decided on. “They couldn't’ stay.”

The Grangers were very kind and talked to Harri for a few more moments. But before long it was a quarter till, and Harri went to the compartment so the family could say their goodbyes.

Hermione joined her shortly. “I’m sorry about that,” she said. “You don’t have to sit here if you don’t want to.”

“No, I’m happy to sit here!” Harri responded, who had never had a friend before and wasn’t really sure how to make one.

Hermione looked relieved and then launched into a long discussion of their course books- that she had memorized by heart. Harri had read through them all, but was a far shot off from memorizing them. She was slightly in awe of the other girl, who seemed to have a photographic memory.

“Have you tried any magic yet?” Hermione asked. “I’ve tried a few simple spells and its all worked for me.”

“Not really,” Harri replied. “I’ve done a lot of accidental magic through the years. I wasn’t really sure where to start. I didn’t want to blow something up.”

Hermione nodded sagely. “I was a bit concerned about that myself.” 

The train began to move. “Do you know what house you’ll be in?” Harri asked her. She had read about them.

“I think Gryffindor sounds by far the best,” Hermione said. “But I think Ravenclaw could be a contender as well.”

Harri nodded. “I honestly don’t know,” she confessed. “I’m not exactly outgoing or brave. And I like to read, but I don’t know about witty. Maybe I’ll be a Hufflepuff,” she said with a laugh

“Not Slytherin?” Hermione asked.

Harri shook her head. “I doubt it. I’m not ambitious or cunning. I think I’d like to make some friends and learn enough magic to make my parents proud.”

Hermione looked confused. “Your parents? Do you all live with your relatives?”

Harri realized she had brought this on herself, but if anyone was going to have a minimal reaction it was a Muggle-Born. “My parents are dead,” Harri stated.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” Hermione exclaimed.

“It was when I was a baby,” Harri said. “I don’t remember them. Honestly, I didn’t even know their names until a month ago!” Harri said, with an attempted laugh to lighten the situation. She instantly regretted saying that though. It was another one of those not normal things that slipped out sometimes. One of her comments that labeled her as strange. As someone to be pitied. The poor neglected girl.

Hermione did have the look for a moment. Then there seemed to be some resolve in her face. Her bossy look returned. “Well, that’s just horrible! Your relatives must be awful.”

It was the best reaction she could have had. Harri smiled. “Yes, they are. I stayed at the Leaky Cauldron for a month once I found out I was a witch. I didn’t want to go back.”

“They let you do that? Isn’t there some kind of Child Protective Services in the wizarding world?” Hermione asked.

“Not that I’ve seen,” Harri responded. “Otherwise…” she trailed off.  _Otherwise, they would have come for me_ was what she left unsaid.

“They really should have such a thing,” Hermione began, and then went on to discuss the failings she had noticed so far in the magical Ministry. She had done a fair amount of research and already had several reform proposals. Harri couldn't keep up. She had never met a girl like Hermione Granger.

When Hermione trailed off she looked a little embarrassed again. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know no one likes when I do that.”

Harri shook her head, “No! You know a lot. I don’t know anything about the wizarding world. Only what I’ve read. And you’ve read so much more! There should be an encyclopedia for Muggle-Borns. There is so much I don’t know.”

To this Hermione had a great deal more to say, but the conversation settled on soulmarks quickly enough. They both understood it was very gauche to discuss, but seeing as they hadn’t had family members to talk about this with, they spoke with each other.

“Do you think it’s all a bit hokey,” Hermione asked Harri. “Soulmates? It seems like something out of a fairy story.”

“And going to magic school doesn’t?” Harri asked with a little laugh.

“I suppose I just don’t understand all the secrecy. It’s supposed to be the most important part of someone’s life, and I couldn’t get anyone to talk to me about it. And that BOOK! IT was only 32 pages!” Hermione was clearly affronted that she couldn’t research the topic into submission.

Just then, the compartment opened. A round-faced boy entered. “Excuse me, but have you see a toad? I’ve lost mine.”

“No we haven’t,” Harri said.

“But we can help you look!” Hermione said. Her voice had gotten its bossy tone back, and she was ready for a task. “We should go ahead and change into our robes, and we’ll help you look!”

The round-faced boy looked relieved. “That would be great,” he said. “My name is Neville. Neville Longbottom.”

“Hermione Granger,” Hermione said.

“Harri,” said Harri, not saying her last name. She didn’t need to apparently, as Neville’s eyes flicked up to Harri’s scar. He didn’t say anything though.

Harri and Hermione quickly changed and left Gulliver in charge of the compartment. They would hopefully return soon once the toad was found. It was quickly apparent that nobody had seen a toad though.

Harri and Hermione came to a compartment that held a single redhead boy eating sandwiches. “Have you seen a toad? Neville’s lost one,” said Hermione.

“I already told him that I haven’t seen it,” said the boy.

“Are you a first year too?” Harri asked, noticing that he didn’t look all that old. He nodded, looking glum.

"Ron Weasley," he said, introducing himself. 

“I’m Hermione Granger,” Hermione said introducing herself.

“I’m Harri,” said Harri, stepping into the compartment.

Ron’s eyes looked up at Harri’s forehead. “Are you really?” he asked.

Harri went pink, but Hermione’s eyes narrowed.

“Is she really who?” Hermione asked.

“Well… you know. Harriet Potter.” Ron said, looking a little aghast at having to explain himself. He pointed at Harri’s forehead.

Harri gently beckoned Hermione into the compartment and slid the door shut. “Yes, I am,” she said to both of them finally.

Ron looked confused, perhaps thinking that Harriet Potter wasn’t a secret and Harri was being silly.

Hermione, on the other hand, looked like she was trying to remember every instance she had read Harri’s name in the last summer. “You’re in  _Modern Magical History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ , and  _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_.”

Harri went from pink to red. “I’ve only read one of them.”

Hermione looked like she wanted to keep talking about it but abruptly shut her mouth. She shrugged. “I can understand why you didn’t want to look further into it.”

Ron, on the other hand, asked a rather boyish question, “Do you remember any of it?”

Hermione rounded on him, “Of course she doesn’t. She was just a baby,” Ron shrank back.

Harri just shrugged. “Well I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else,” she said.

“Wow,” said Ron. He stared at Harri for a few moments, and then looked away. “Well like I said, I haven't seen a toad anywhere.”

Harri didn’t think Ron seemed so bad, plus he was obviously from one of those old wizarding families. He probably knew loads of things about magic already! “Well, I was thinking about buying some candy from the trolly. Would you like to join us to eat some?”

Ron's ears went pink.

“No,” he muttered. “I brought sandwiches.”

“I’ll swap you then!” Harri said with a smile. Harri had never had anything to share before, or indeed, anyone to share it with. It was a nice feeling.

“You don’t want these. They’re dry. My mum doesn’t have a lot of time. There are five of us at home.”

“You have four siblings! And all of you are magic?” Hermione asked in excitement

“Six, actually,” Ron replied with a grimace.

Harri grinned at Ron. “Honestly Ron, we’d love to pick yours and Neville’s brains about magic. Hermione and I grew up with Muggles.”

“What are they like?” Ron asked.

“Horrible- well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though.”

Hermione nodded. “I think it’s the same in most places. Some people are bad and some are good.”

Eventually, Hermione and Harri were able to cajole Ron to join their compartment. Having already searched their half of the train and found no sign of Trevor, Harri went with Ron to their compartment. Hermione went in search of Neville to ask him to join them in their compartment, and to ask the conductor how long it would be until they arrived. Harri and Ron made a stop by the Trolly on their way.

Harri had never gotten to buy candy before. Now that she had pockets rattling with gold and silver she was ready to buy as many Mars Bars as she could carry- but the trolly woman didn’t have Mars Bars. What she did have were Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a number of other strange things Harri had never seen in her life. She bought a little bit of everything.

It took both Harri and Ron to carry her haul back to the compartment, their arms overflowing with treats.

Harri quite enjoyed the Pumpkin Pasties.

When Hermione joined them with Neville, she made a sniffing sound at the sight of all the candy. Harri just grinned with Ron, pleased at the mountain of sweets.

“My parents are both dentists,” Hermione said, as delicately held a Cauldron Cake. “I’ve never been allowed sweets before.”

Hermione seemed to take her new freedom for granted, only partaking in a single sweet.  Neville was quite put out with losing Trevor and didn’t seem to have much of an appetite for candy at first, but after picking at the pile he began to join in with gusto. 

Harri enjoyed the chocolate frog cards more than the chocolate frogs. After eating more sweets than she had ever eater in her life, she was beginning to feel a bit ill. There was no deterring Ron though, and eventually, he and Neville were the main partakers.

“So this is Dumbledore!” said Harri, holding up a Chocolate Frog card.

“Don’t tell me you’d never heard of Dumbledore!” said Ron.

Harri turned over her card and read:

Albus Dumbledore

Lord of Light

Currently Headmaster of Hogwarts

_Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark Lord Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon’s blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicholas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling._

Harri turned the card back over and saw, to her astonishment, that Dumbledore’s face had disappeared.

“He’s gone!”

“What?” Hermione exclaimed, leaning over to look at the empty card.

“Well, you can’t expect him to hang around all day,” said Ron. “He’ll be back.”

“In the Muggle world, people just stay put in photos,” said Harri.

“How on Earth does this work?” Hermione asked. “Is there a specific spell or potion that you put on the photos when developing?”

Ron and Neville just shrugged. This was mundane to them. Hermione looked quite put out that they didn’t know details.

As the train went on they all learned about each other's families. Ron was the sixth child out of seven. He had five older brothers. Harri couldn’t imagine what that was like. He looked rather gloomy when talking about them though.

“You could say I’ve got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left- Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of the Quidditch team. Now Percy’s a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they’re really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it’s no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I’ve got Bill’s old robes, Charlie’s old wand, and Percy’s old rat.”

Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat, which was asleep.

Gulliver instantly began hissing.

Ron looked dubiously at the cat, and slid his rat back into his jacket. “His name’s Scabbers and he’s useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn’t aff- I mean, I got Scabbers instead.”

Ron’s ears went pink. He seemed to think he’d said too much because he started staring out the window. Harri, who always seemed to say too much, knew the embarrassment Ron was feeling. But she didn’t think there was anything wrong with not being able to afford an owl. She’d never had any money in her life until a month ago, and she told Ron so. All about having to wear Dudley’s old clothes and never getting birthday presents. This seemed to cheer Ron up, but Hermione and Neville looked a little horrified.

“... and until Hagrid told me, I didn’t know anything about being a wizard really. Or my parents. Or Voldemort-”

Ron and Neville both gasped.

“What?” asked Hermione.

“She said  _You-Know-Who’s name!_ ” said Ron, sounding both shocked and impressed.

“People just don’t say it,” Neville said in a tremulous voice.

“I’m not trying to be brave or anything, saying the name,” said Harri. “I just never knew you shouldn’t. I’ve got so much to learn,” she said sadly. Shaking her head.

“But he’s been dead for ten years,” Hermione said, looking confused. “Why would everyone still be afraid of saying the name?”

“A lot of families were very hurt by him and the Death Eaters,” said Neville looking sad. “It’s not that they’re afraid I think. It just brings back a lot of bad memories.”

Neville had already mentioned that his Gran had brought him up. Harri wondered if he was speaking from personal experience.

“I just don’t know anything,” Harri said in frustration. “I bet I’m the worst in the class.”

“You won’t be. There are loads of people who come from Muggle families and they learn quick enough,” said Ron.

Hermione looked relieved, clearly, she had been very worried about being left behind in the curriculum.

Eventually, the subject turned away from that, with Hermione quizzing Neville and Ron about the finer points of wizard society. They learned that Ron’s father worked for the Ministry, but he didn’t seem to know any of the specifics. Both were looking increasingly annoyed at each other.

Neville finally cut in, “Did you hear about Gringotts? It’s been all over the  _Daily Prophet_ , but I don’t suppose you get that with the Muggles- someone tried to rob a high-security vault.”

Harri stared. She should have heard something about that considering her proximity to the bank for the last month.

“Really? What happened to them?” she asked.

“Nothing, that’s why it’s such big news. They haven’t been caught. My dad says it must’ve been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts but they don’t think they took anything, that’s what’s odd. ‘Course everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who’s behind it.” said Ron.

“My Gran says that they must have been right mad. She says that they’re are all kinds of spells and enchantments down there. That the cart dissolves if you try to take something,” explained Neville.

There was a slight lull in the conversation at that. Harri and Hermione didn't have anything to add to conversations about Bank Security. 

“What’s your Quidditch team?” Ron asked to fill the silence.

“What’s Quidditch?” asked Hermione. Ron looked aghast. He looked at Harri, who also shook her head. Neville looked equally shocked.  

“It’s the best game in the world!” Ron exclaimed. And he was off, explaining all about the four balls and the positions of the seven players, describing famous games he’d been to with his brothers and the broomstick he’d like to get if he had the money. Neville would chime in occasionally, and the boys got in a light debate over the merits of the Cannons vs. the Harpies.

The compartment door slid open, and three boys entered. Harri recognized the middle one at once: it was the pale boy from Madam Malkin’s robe shop. He was looking a bit bored, but said in his drawl, “I’m looking for Hermione.”

Hermione looked absolutely shocked.

“I’m Hermione,” she said, fixing the boy with an amazed stare.

The boy instantly perked up. “Are you really? Well, I’m Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.”  He looked like he expected some flash of recognition to cross Hermione’s face, but it didn’t.

“I’m Hermione Granger,” she said, introducing herself with a shy smile.

“Granger? Are you related to the Dagworth-Granger family?” he asked.

“No,” Hermione said, “I’m not related to any magic users. I’m Muggle-Born.” Draco Malfoy looked horrified.

“ _What!?”_ he exclaimed in horror. “Then it can’t be  _you_.” Then he stormed out, taking the two other boys with him.

Hermione look shell shocked for a long beat, hen she looked like she was about to cry. No one in the compartment knew what to say.

Neville was the first to speak, “I’m sorry Hermione. It goes that way sometimes.” Hermione just shook her head, looking down at her lap.

Ron couldn’t meet Hermione’s eyes and was looking out the window, seeming very embarrassed. It took Harri a moment, but she finally understood what had happened. “Was that your soulmate?” Harri asked.

Both Ron and Neville went pink. Right, that was something that you weren't supposed to talk about.

Hermione continued to look down. “I guess. Maybe,” she said in a whisper.

“I’ve heard of his family,” said Ron darkly. “They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they’d been bewitched. My dad doesn’t believe it. He says Malfoy’s father didn’t need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side.”

“So…” Hermione said quietly, “So they would have a rather large problem with a Muggle-Born. Wouldn’t they.”

Ron and Neville both nodded. Harri was horrified. “But you’re clearly brilliant. Why should that matter at all?” Harri asked. She felt the itch inside of her. The anger. “I don’t understand this at all. The Muggle world isn’t bad. It’s just different. Yet half of everyone I meet seems to have a problem with it.”

“Blood purity matters to some families,” Neville explained. “My family, the Longbottoms, and Ron’s, the Weasleys, they're known as blood-traitors. Because we associate with Muggle-Borns. Yours too, Harri, if I’m remembering my lessons right.”

“They refer to us as the wrong sort too,” Ron said with a smile. “They’re right gits, those old Slytherin families.”

Harri was certain of one thing now, as they worked to cheer up Hermione. She wanted nothing to do with Slytherin if this was how they treated her new friends.

* * *

It was about an hour later when a voice echoed through the train: “We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes’ time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately.”

Gulliver, who was asleep in Harri’s lap, seemed quite affronted that Harri might leave him. His claws sunk into Harri’s trousers as she tried to pull the cat off. “Stay in your basket, buddy. I think they’re taking you where you’re supposed to go.”

The cat growled and hissed, but eventually consented.

The train slowed down to a stop. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny platform. Harri shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harri heard a familiar voice:

“Firs’ years! Firs’ years over there! All right there, Harri?’”

Hagrid’s big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.

“C’mon, follow me- any more firs’ years? Mind yer step, now! Firs’ years follow me!”

Slipping and stumbling they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harri thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville sniffed once or twice.

“Yeh’ll get yer firs’ sight o’Hogwarts in a sec,” Hagrid called over his shoulder, “jus round this bend here.”

There was a loud “Oooooh!”

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

“No more’n four to a boat!” Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harri, Ron, Hermione, and Neville all got into one.

“Everyone in?” shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. “Right then- FORWARD!”

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

“Heads down!” yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff face. They all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they climbed out onto rocks and pebbles.

“Oy, you there! Is this your toad?” said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

“Trevor!” cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid’s lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge oak front door.

“Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.


	6. The Sorting Hat

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Harri’s first thought was that this was not someone to cross.

“The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,” said Hagrid.

“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here,” she said in a strong Scottish brogue.

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Dursleys’ house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harri could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right- the rest of the school must already be here- but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said Professor McGonagall. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.”

Harri was suddenly very aware that she, Hermione, Ron, and Neville could all be separated now. They might be in different houses. Just when she had made friends, she might lose them. A queasy feeling started to build in her stomach.

“The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.”

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.”

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Nevile’s cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron’s smudged nose. Harri nervously began to run her fingers through her hair.

“I shall return when we are ready for you,” said Professor McGonagall. “Please wait quietly.”

She left the chamber. Harri swallowed.

“How exactly do they sort us into houses?” she asked Ron.

“Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking.”

Harri’s heart gave a horrible jolt. A test? In front of the whole school? But she didn’t know how to control any of her magic yet. She started to breathe a little faster and felt her magic pull close around her. It was comforting. All her magic close, keeping her small and unnoticed.

“Harri,” Hermione said quietly so no one else could hear, “Is there a reason you’ve started to go transparent?”

Harri looked down and saw that she had done it again. Would these feelings ever get under control? Or would she do this every time she felt overwhelmed or frightened? She took several deep breaths and tried to get her heart rate under control. Her magic began to flow again. She returned to being solidly visible.

“How did you do that?” Hermione asked in awe.

“It’s not something I mean to do,” Harri replied quietly. “It’s just… I hate being in front of people. Of having people look at me.”

Everyone around them was far too busy looking terrified to have noticed Harri’s magical snafu. Hermione reached down and took Harri’s hand and gave it a little squeeze. Amazingly, considering Harri didn’t really like people touching her, this helped a good deal.

Hermione began whispering very fast about all the spells she’d learned. Harri couldn’t keep up, but she liked the reassurance of Hermione’s hand in hers. “If anyone doesn’t need to smarten up, it’s you, Hermione,” Harri whispered to her. Hermione gave her a soft smile.

Then something happened that made Harri jump about a foot in the air- several people behind her yelped “What the-”

She gasped and felt her magic taking on a static quality. The people around her gasped as well. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: “Forgive and forget, I say, we out to give him a second chance-”

“My dear Friar, haven’t we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he’s not really even a ghost- I say what are you all doing here?”

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.

Nobody answered.

“New students!” said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. “About to be sorted, I suppose?”

A few people nodded mutely.

“Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!” said the Friar. “My old house, you know.”

“Move along now,” said a sharp voice. “The Sorting Ceremony is about to start.”

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

“Now, form a line,” Professor McGonagall told the first years, “and follow me.”

Feeling oddly as though her legs had turned to lead, Harri got into line behind a boy with sandy hair, with Ron behind her, and they walked out the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Harri had never imagined such a strange and splendid place. She had read about it in _Hogwarts a History_ but nothing had prepared her for the reality of it all. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in mid-air over for long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. The tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up there so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the string eyes, Harri looked upward and saw the starry ceiling. It was more beautiful than she could have dreamed.

It was hard to believe that there was a ceiling there at all. It felt like the Great Hall opened up to the heavens itself. This open, non-claustrophobic hall, made it much easier for Harri to remain calm despite the many eyes upon her.

Harri noticed finally that everyone was staring at a hat that McGonagall had placed of a stool. She couldn’t imagine what was expected of them to do with the hat. But before she could come up with any ideas, the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth- and the hat began to sing.  

When it was done, the whole hall burst into applause. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

“So we’ve just got to try on the hat!” Ron whispered to Harri. “I’ll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll.”

Harri smiled weakly, and she noticed quite a few relieved faces. Yes, this was much better than trying to control her magic and do a spell. Though she did wish she didn’t have to try it on with everyone watching. What if it didn't sort her at all? Said that she was too untamed and too dangerous for Hogwarts.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

“When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,” she said. “Abbott, Hannah!”

And on it went. Hannah Abbott became a Hufflepuff, as did Susan Bones. Terry Boot and Mandy Brocklehurst were both Ravenclaws. Lavender Brown became the first new Gryffindor.

Millicent Bulstrode went to Slytherin and Justin Finch-Fletchley to Hufflepuff. Seamus Finnigan, the sandy-haired boy ahead of Harri, went to Gryffindor.  

Sometimes the hat took a long time to decide, and that was the case for Hermione. The hat was on her head for long minutes before declaring her a Gryffindor. Ron groaned, but Harri elbowed him.

Eventually, it was Neville’s turn and he also became a Gryffindor. Harri had a goal now. She too would get into Gryffindor. That house valued bravery right? A horrible thought hit her. She wasn’t brave at all. What if the hat started laughing at her for wanting to be in Gryffindor. Laughed at her in front of the whole school.

Hermione’s horrible soulmate, Draco Malfoy, was made a Slytherin. He seemed to have lost some of his swagger from the robe shop.

On and on it went, until finally, it was Harri’s turn.

“Potter, Harriet”

As Harri stepped forward, the whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

“Potter, did she say?”

“ _The_ Harriet Potter?”

Harri’s face was fully red and she was doing her best to hold her magic back. The temptation was great though, to go into a cocoon of magic and hide away from all the whispers.

The last thing Harri saw before the hat dropped over her eyes was Hermione looking at her with an encouraging smile.  She waited.

“Hmm,” said a small voice in her ear. “Difficult. Very difficult. You aren’t what they expected, are you, my dear.”

“No,” Harri thought back. “I think they expected someone a lot braver than I am.”

“Oh there’s plenty of courage, I see. No no, my dear. I meant that the wolves are at the door. And you, you’ve spent your whole life listening to them howl.” Harri didn’t know what the hat meant. She was just a small girl, and the wizarding world seemed to expect a very brave hero.

“Hmm… you’ll understand in time I think. Not a bad mind, you know. You learn for a purpose, not for the love of knowledge. There’s more talent than you’ll know what to do with. And a soft heart- oh, my dear, you do just want a safe place don’t you?”

“More than anything,” thought Harri, thinking about Hermione’s smile. Her hand in Harri’s. Harri’s first friend. Of Neville’s shy explanations. Of Ron’s enthusiastic bombasticness.

“Well, in that case, there is really only one place for you. The snakes would do nothing but make you miserable. Better be... GRYFFINDOR”

Harri heard the hat shout the last word so the whole hall could hear. She was relieved. She walked right over to Hermione, and the two girls hugged. Harri sat down and was introduced to Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, the two other Gryffindor first year girls. Neville was across from her, and Harri saved a seat for Ron. Who was indeed sorted into Gryffindor the moment the hat touched his head.

Harri couldn’t have been happier.

* * *

After the banquet, where Harri ate as much as she could, they made their way to Gryffindor tower.  The first years were following Percy, Ron’s brother, through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Harri’s legs were like lead again, but only because she was so tired.

After leading them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries, and climbing staircase after staircase, Harri was wondering how much further they had to go when they came to a sudden halt.

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and as Percy took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him.

“Peeves,” Percy whispered to the first years. “A poltergeist.” He raised his voice, “Peeves, show yourself.”

A loud rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.

“Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?”

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air clutching the walking sticks.

“Ooooh!,” he said, with an evil cackle. “Ickle Firsties! What fun!”

Percy eventually got Peeves to leave them be, and eventually, they reached the end of the corridor where a portrait hung of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

“Password?” she asked.

“Caput Draconis,” said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it- Neville needed a leg up- and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy round room full of squashy armchairs.

Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase- they were obviously in one of the towers- they found their beds at last: four four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed.

Gulliver made his purring presence known quite quickly and snuggled into the crook of Harri’s legs. Harri was going to ask Hermione… something… but she fell asleep almost at once.

Perhaps Harri had eaten too much food because she never ate much at all usually, but her dream was very strange. Professor Quirrell, who had appeared at the feast in a large purple turban (unlike when they had met at the Alley), was there. He was telling her that her destiny was in Slytherin. He seemed to be hissing at her, and the more she said no, the more the hissing filled her ears. Then Professor Snape, whose gaze had made her scar twinge, appeared. He started laughing. His laugh became cold and high- there was a burst of green light, and Harri woke up sweating and shaking.  

Gulliver gave a little yowl, stretched, and padded over to her hand; looking for a scratch.

It was morning, and officially her first day of school.


	7. The Potions Master

Harri was pleasantly surprised at how nice her new roommates were. She already knew that she liked Hermione, but Lavender and Parvati were both enjoyable to be around. Lavender was very funny and prone to the girlier pursuits. She had a subscription to ‘Witch Weekly,’ and was up to date on all the latest haircare charms. Not that any of them knew how to perform said charms, but she kept a collection for future use and experimentation.

Parvati was a pretty Indian girl with long black hair. Her twin sister, Padme, had been sorted into Ravenclaw. At first, Parvati seemed a bit miffed about being separated from her sister, but she found that Lavender was a good substitute and a more willing ear when it came to gossip.

Harri, who had never been around girly girls before, was enamored by their ability to do hair, arrange outfits, paint nails, and find hidden meaning in every spoken word. While she still felt too shy to overly engage, she enjoyed sitting and listening to her roommates. Lavender even showed her how to french braid her hair!

Hermione couldn’t stand them.

They talked too much, interrupted her reading, and were far too focused on boys instead of school. They were here to learn magic, weren’t they? Why would they be focused on who was wearing which mark covering?

Harri had merely shrugged. She could tell that Hermione had an intensity and fanaticism for learning that surpassed anything she had ever seen before. Hermione's intensity even started to wear on Harri by the end of their first week. She was obsessively combing through notes, practicing spells, and badgering Harri to write two feet more for her Transfiguration essay (Harri assured her that three feet was plenty to cover the topic).

Whenever Hermione got to be too much, Harri was glad for Lavender and Parvati. And Ron and Neville. The boys had formed a good friendship with their two roommates, Dean and Seamus. Harri sat with the quartet of boys for breakfast on their second day. Dean and Seamus were both loud and boisterous. Seamus could talk faster than Lavender, which was saying something.

Whispers followed Harri from the moment she left he dormitory each day. People lined up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at her, or doubled back to pass her in the corridors. When she noticed this, she always blushed pink.

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn’t open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren’t really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending.

The ghosts didn’t help either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. But Nearly-Headless Nick (the Gryffindor Ghost) was always happy to point students in the right direction. On the other hand, Peeves the Poltergeist was worth several locked doors and a trick staircase if you were late for class.

Even worse than Peeves was Argus Filch the caretaker and his cat, Mrs. Norris. Harri tried to pet the cat, but it had yowled and hissed at her menacingly. Filch was always glad to catch students doing something wrong, and he and his cat seemed to show up the moment trouble was occurring. Filch seemed to know the castle better than anyone, except perhaps Ron’s brothers, Fred and George. Fred and George really could show up anywhere, and mischief always followed in their wake. A blown up toilet was attributed, but not proven, to be the work of the Weasley Twins on the third day of term.

Getting around really was just half the problem. There were the classes themselves! Despite Harri’s accidental magic, purposeful magic was much more difficult than expected. Oh, some classes weren’t so bad. Like on Wednesday nights at midnight when they got to look through their telescopes at the stars. Or Herbology with Professor Sprout, where they learned to take care of strange plants and fungi. Herbology reminded her a bit too much of tending to the Dursleys’ garden for Harri to truly enjoy it, but Astronomy was magical.

Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which Harri found to be a real shame. She had greatly enjoyed the textbook, but Professor Binns was an unaware ghost who droned on and on about Goblin Rebellions.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. He let out a squeak when he read Harri’s name on the role. Charms was their first experience in wand waving. It was here that Harri realized that while some students had an issue making anything happen at all, she had an issue with making far too much happen. Professor Flitwick had to put out a fire when Harri put too much force behind her spell, trying to make something finally happen after twenty minutes of nothing happening at all.

Hermione was the first student to have any measure of success. In Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall had them attempting to change a matchstick into a needle. Hermione was able to make it go silver and pointy. Harri hadn’t managed anything at all. That night in the common room while practicing, Ron managed the silver part. Harri made her matchstick explode into a shower of needle fragments. It was frustrating, to say the least.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell’s lesson turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he had met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie. Harri thought it was odd that he wore it every day since it looked quite unruly. Harri left DADA with a horrible headache, she assumed from the horrible garlic smell.

Harri was relieved to find that she wasn’t miles behind everyone else. Lots of people came from Muggle families and, like her, hadn’t had any idea that they were witches and wizards. So Harri enjoyed discussing the finer points of football with Dean Thomas, literature with Hermione, and even found common ground about muggle gardening with Hannah Abbott (a half-blood) when they were paired together in Herbology. `

There was so much to learn that even people like Ron and Neville didn’t have much of a head start. Most of the time it seemed like it was Hermione that was miles ahead, to Ron’s annoyance.

For the first time in her life, Harri felt like she was around friends. It was a revelation to enjoy every interaction she had with people. Nothing could put a damper on her mood.

That was before her first potions class with Professor Snape.

* * *

Friday was an important day for Harri and Hermione. They finally managed to find their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once. Neville and Ron were already there when they arrived, Ron eating his porridge rather quickly.

Hermione sniffed at his poor table manners.

“What have we got today?” Harri asked Ron as she poured sugar over her own bowl of porridge.

“Double Potions with the Slytherins,” said Ron. “Snape’s Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them- we’ll be able to see if it’s true.”

“I’m sure it’s not,” said Hermione primely. “Professor Snape has a responsibility to be fair to all his students. Like Professor McGonagall.”

“Yeah,” said Harri, “but I wish that McGonagall did favor us!” She had given them a huge pile of homework the day before. Hermione had already finished it, of course.

Just then the mail arrived. Harri had gotten used to this by now, but it had given her a shock on the first morning. So far she hadn’t gotten anything, but this morning a large tawny owl swooped down and dropped a note in front of Harri. She tore it open at once. It said, in an untidy scrawl:

_Dear Harri_

_I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Thumper._

_Hagrid_

Thumper the Screech owl was large and helping himself to some of Harri’s bacon.

“Would you like to come with me to tea at Hagrid’s?” Harri asked Ron, Hermione, and Neville. The three readily agreed. So Harri scribbled a reply of  ‘ _Yes, please, see you later. Bringing a few friends_ ’, and sent Thumper off again.

It was lucky that Harri had tea to look forward to because the Potions lesson turned out to be the worst thing that had happened to her so far.

At the start-of-term banquet, Harri had gotten the idea that Professor Snape disliked her. Ten Minutes into the first Potions lesson, she knew she’d been wrong. Snape didn’t dislike Harri- he hated her.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class with the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harri’s name.

“Ah, yes,” he said softly, “Harriet Potter. Our new- celebrity.” Harri felt her face turn pink and had a strong desire to hide. Snape reminded her of a predator.

Draco Malfoy, who had gotten his swagger back, sniggered behind his hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid’s, but they had none of Hagrid’s warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making,” he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word- like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. Harri wondered if potion brewing was a bit like baking, which was something she enjoyed.

“As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach!”

All this sounded well and good to Harri. So far wand waving had resulted in explosions. A class that involved chopping, stirring and recipes seemed ideal. Bu then…

“Potter!” said Snape suddenly. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

She knew some of this from her textbook. “Well…” Harri began carefully, feeling very self-conscious. “I know that wormwood can be used to soothe digestive issues. And asphodel has something to do with death…” Hermione’s hand was in the air.

“That isn’t good enough Potter. You have to know how ingredients interact with each other. Fame clearly isn’t everything.” She wanted to disappear.

“Let’s try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

“It’s a stone from a stomach I think,” Harri replied. She remembered seeing a medical show with Aunt Petunia that featured a woman who had chewed her hair into a bezoar. Clearly, this answer was not complete enough as Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go.

“Do you think you can get away with half answers, Potter?” Harri forced herself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes. She felt angry. The itch behind her eye was there. This was just like the Dursleys. Professor Snape was a bully. He was singling her out, trying to shame her. Why did he have to do this? Harri hadn’t done anything to him.

Snape ignored Hermione’s quivering hand.

“What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.

“I don’t know,” said Harri quietly. “I think Hermione does, though, why don’t you try her?”

A few people laughed, but Snape’s face only tightened with fury. “Sit down,” he snapped at Hermione. “For your information Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren’t you all copying that down?”

There was a rummaging of quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, “And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter.” She glared at Snape. She hadn’t done anything wrong.

Things didn’t improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. Harri and Ron paired together, while Hermione was with Neville. This appeared to be a good thing, as Hermione was able to stop Neville from adding porcupine quills while the cauldron was still on the fire. Hermione’s quick spot was overheard by Snape. He quickly turned on Harri, “You- Potter- why didn’t you try and stop him from adding the quills? Thought he’d make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That’s another point from Gryffindor.”

This was so unfair that Harri began to cry in frustration, rage, and embarrassment. She had no control over what her magic did next. She knew that she had two ways of reacting to Snape from experience with Vernon Dursley. Anger or to run away. It appeared that on some level she knew that she couldn’t hang Professor Snape upside down like she had Uncle Vernon. Flight won out, and Harri completely disappeared for the first time in her life.

Everyone in the room gasped. But Snape didn’t.

His eyes narrowed. “Out,” he hissed. With a wave of his wand everyone’s potions disappeared from their cauldrons.

“You will stay, Miss. Potter,” he said to the invisible Harri who was at this point gripping herself and shaking on the floor trying to gain control of the magic swirling around her.

The students quickly packed up their belongings and filed out of the class. Ron, Hermione, and Neville paused by the door. A sharp look from Snape had them out after a moment though. Snape flicked his wand behind them, and the door shut with a soft click.

Snape stood over Harri, who had begun to be visible again. She was still very translucent, and her head was between her knees. She felt like she had the chills all over her body and like she might throw up.

“Miss. Potter,” Snape said with a resigned kind of softness. “Are you aware of what your magic is doing right now?”

Harri shook her head, not looking up.

“When a young witch or wizard spends a great deal of time under duress their magic finds ways to shield them. Becoming invisible, lashing out, moving objects.”

Harri peaked up, looked up at Snape’s face. It seemed pinched and uncomfortable. “You completely disappeared Miss. Potter. It takes a great deal of magic to do that. It also takes years of duress”

Harri sighed, and the magic dissipated. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said with practiced certainty. Who was this man, who had just verbally berated her like Vernon Dursley, to comment on the… duress she had experienced as a child.

Snape glared down at her. “There is no need to lie, Miss. Potter.”

This wasn’t happening. She wasn’t going to talk about this. In what universe should she have to ever recount her time with the Dursleys? It was over. She wasn’t going back. She would run away if she had to. She had money, it wouldn’t be a problem.

“I can deal with this myself,” she said. Her voice sounded shaky. Then nausea, which had begun when she had pulled her shield around herself, bubbled over. She retched. Her porridge reappeared looking unchanged from breakfast.

Snape didn’t seem phased. Didn’t make a face of disgust. Didn’t do anything that she expected actually. Instead, he kneeled down beside her, banishing her sick with a wave of his wand and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“I know what you’re going through Miss. Potter. I myself struggled with this issue as a child,” he said. His eyes, which had previously looked very emotionless, were suddenly full of sorrow.

“Did you make everything explode too?” Harri asked, sniffing.

“Yes,” he replied.

“I’ve always been a freak,” she whispered. “Even in the Wizarding World now.”

“Miss. Potter, let me assure you that what you are going through, while not usual, is not something ‘freakish’,” Snape said. His tone seemed angrier. “If you would follow me, you should go to the Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfrey would do well to look you over.”

He helped her stand and led her out into the corridor. Hermione, Ron, and Neville were still there waiting for her. Harri’s heart felt much lighter seeing her friends. They had cared enough to wait!

“Miss. Potter will be going to the Hospital Wing,” Snape told them sharply.

“Would you mind going down to Hagrid’s? To let him know I won’t make tea?” Harri asked shakily. Her friends assured her that they would, and off Harri went with Snape.

* * *

 Severus Snape had been determined to hate Harriet Potter.She was the living embodiment of his own failures mixed with the very reason for Lily’s death. There could be nothing redeemable about the girl.  

When she had first entered the hall all he had seen was Lily’s hair. For a moment, Snape had been sure that she would look just like Lily. He hadn’t decided if that would be a living hell for him or not, but on further inspection, he saw that it was worse than just looking like Lily. She was a true mix of her parents. Lily’s hair, eye shape, and cheekbones. James Potter’s mouth, nose, and expressions. His eye color too, Snape had seen that during the first potions class. How could he forget James Potter’s smirking mouth and horrid eyes looking at him for seven years of torture?

She was like her father, he quickly thought. She had amassed a group of friends and would prance about the great hall with them. From the other professors, he heard that she would explode her projects with practiced ease. Just like Potter then, no view of safety. No care for the people that would get hurt in her wake.

Yes, he had perhaps reacted poorly in class. He had been surprised that she had managed as well as she had with her half-answers to two of his questions. She had opened a book. Her potion technique wasn’t bad either, he had observed. With her head down she could almost pass as Lily.

Lily…

Severus Snape was one of the unlucky few people with an unanswered soulmark. “What’s Obvious?” had been the lovely purple words encircling his wrist, but ‘It’s obvious, isn’t it?” hadn’t been the ones to circle hers.

Seeing Harriet Potter, the result of all his fractured hopes and failures, look just like her mother had been too much for him. His temper had gotten away from him. One unfounded accusation later, and Harriet Potter had disappeared in a manner that only an abused child could.

Severus would know. He had done much the same thing before he had met Lily.

Abuse had two common outcomes for a magical child. The first was to become an Obscurial. Someone who repressed their magic so much that it eventually overcame them. The second was not so widely named. The child would use their magic as a defense, often accidentally, but would never attempt to repress their magical responses. Often the desire to be unseen allowed such children to become transparent, or even invisible if given the right motivation.

It appeared that Snape had given Harriet Potter just the right motivation. He ran a hand over his face in frustration as he made his way to the Headmaster’s Office after leaving her with Madame Pomfrey. He had told a house elf to collect Minerva.

He wondered what physical reminders of abuse would appear to Pomfrey. Clearly, she was underweight. Malnutrition and stunted growth. Would there be nearly healed bruises? Broken bones? Severus had been the recipient of many a black eye and dislocated shoulder from his father.

Once he arrived at Dumbledore’s Office and climbed the stairs, he found Minerva and Albus speaking quietly. He cleared his throat.

Minerva turned, looking concerned. “You say this is about Potter?” she asked sternly.

“Surely one lesson isn’t enough to condemn the girl in your eyes, Severus,” Albus said, eyes twinkling.  

He felt shame and frustration fill him. They thought the worst of him. That after a day with Harriet Potter he was up here demanding to never see the girl again. If she hadn’t disappeared he wondered if that wasn't exactly what he would have done.

“No,” he said softly. “I asked to meet because Miss. Potter exhibited signs of abuse in my class. She disappeared when I… let my temper get the best of me.”

Minerva gasped, but Albus didn’t look surprised. “I knew it, Albus. I knew it. I told you those were the worst types of Muggles. I should have known! The ward for accidental magic has been going haywire in the common room.”

“Worst kind of muggles?” Snape asked. “Surely Mr. and Mrs. Evans weren’t so bad. I knew them as a boy.”

Albus shook his head. “Lily’s parents passed away in 1980.”

A feeling of dread hit Severus. “Surely,” he began, “You did not put a wizarding child in the care of Petunia Evans.” Harriet had called herself a freak. Severus could remember Petunia saying much the same thing to Lily.

“Dursley now, actually,” Dumbledore corrected.

“Albus! No wonder she’s like this. Petunia was the worst kind of magic-hating muggle I ever saw. Always jealous of her sister.”

“And her husband!” Minerva exclaimed. “He yelled and yelled at the people he works with. He must do the same to Harriet!”

“I took her to the Hospital Wing to determine the extent of the abuse,” Snape informed Minerva. “I think she will respond better to your presence than mine.”

Minerva nodded and then headed for the door. “She won’t be returning to those muggles Albus, I won’t allow it,” she said in parting as she closed the door behind her.

“I’m afraid that Harriet must return to the Dursleys,” Albus told him softly.

“I won’t allow it either, Albus.”

“There are protections there that cannot be put in place anywhere else.”

“I don’t rightfully care. If you want me to leave Lily Evans daughter in a place where _that_ kind of magic develops you are dead wrong.” Severus felt the ice in his tone, the venom in his voice.

“Be reasonable Severus, she needs to be safe.” Albus did look upset. Horribly upset.

“She would be safe at Hogwarts over the summer,” Severus tried.

“You know as well as I that professors leave the castle to pursue their own interests over the summer. It’s no place for a twelve-year-old girl.”

“And you know as well as I do that she can’t go back, Albus. It isn’t acceptable to leave a child in a situation like that. It’s against the law. Against all of our training as teachers. The physical well being of children matters.”

“And what do you suggest then, Severus,” Dumbledore asked this with a very tired voice. “Who do you purpose takes in Harriet Potter? She can’t be on her own. She has no other relatives. The blood wards keep her safe from Voldemort's followers. Do you realize how many attempted attacks have failed in the last year alone? At least half a dozen. Where else would he be safe?”

He felt an answer on the tip of his tongue but knew it wasn’t practical. Knew that he wasn’t capable of the kindness he was close to proposing.

“I’ll come up with something. Minerva and I will.”

“I will be happy to hear any solutions that you propose,” Albus responded. “But if none of them provide the appropriate amount of protection, Harriet will be forced to return to her relatives. We can always implement more home visits. Please give me a report of your incident today with Miss. Potter. And ask Poppy to send hers along as well. I’ll start a file.” Albus rubbed his temple with long fingers. He had begun to look old over these last few years.

“Of course, Albus,” said Severus as he left the office with a soft click.

Harriet Potter was much worse than he had expected. It appeared that she had gotten her mother’s hair, her father’s expressions, and Severus’ childhood.


	8. The Midnight Duel

Harri struggled to control her breathing once Professor Snape left her alone in the Hospital Wing. She had only been to a doctor once before, and it hadn’t been a pleasant experience. She had been five years old, and Dudley had punched her in the nose at school. With blood pouring down her face, she had gone to the nurse, who had phoned Aunt Petunia and told her that she was taking Harri to a physician.

Harri had been glad to have her nose properly set, but when Aunt Petunia had arrived it all went downhill. She had thanked the school nurse and doctor for taking such good care of Harri, and then trundled her off into the car. She then proceeded to shrilly yell at Harri for the entire ride back to Privet Drive. The list was long; for getting Dudley suspended, for not having the common sense to keep this to herself, for costing the Dursleys money. Harri would have been fine with being confined to her cupboard for a few days, but that wasn’t what happened. Instead, when Uncle Vernon had come home, he had slammed her hand roughly against the wall with a twist, breaking her wrist and two fingers. Harri had been in agony, but at the first sign of tears had been kicked in the stomach. Freaks didn’t deserve to cry. She had been told firmly that if she ever told anyone what happened she would be turned out.

Sometimes Harri had wondered what it would have been like to live on the streets. She didn’t think that she could make it, but maybe some nice family would take her in. She saw little girls at school with happy parents. A father that picked up his daughter for a hug at the end of a school day. The mother that sent notes in her son’s packed lunch. Aunt Petunia would often tell Harri that she didn’t deserve to be loved because she was a freak. Like her parents had been freaks.

Harri remembered all of this as Madame Pomfrey examined her. She worked hard to control her breathing because rationally Harri knew that nothing bad was going to happen. She was never going near the Dursleys again. It wouldn’t matter if the teachers knew what had happened.

Old habits were hard to suppress, even when trying to think rationally. Harri was fading in and out of visibility while Madame Pomfrey cast diagnostic spells. She kept the kindly smile on her face, which seemed more and more forced as time went on.

Professor McGonagall arrived just as Madame Pomfrey was finishing up, and the two began to speak in hushed voices. They kept glancing over at Harri.

She hated it.

Finally, the two women came over to Harri and sat down in chairs next to the hospital bed Harri was perched on.

“Miss. Potter,” Professor McGonagall began, “I have heard an account from Professor Snape about what occurred in his class today. Do you understand why we find the magic you are performing alarming?”

“Yes Professor,” Harri said. “He said that it was indicative of… of my childhood.”

“Yes Harriet,” Madame Pomfrey said, “and from what I’ve learned from these scans it wasn’t a very pleasant childhood.”

“No, ma’am,” Harri replied, looking down.

“Miss. Potter, we know this is a lot. You do not have to say more than you feel comfortable with. But we would like to understand what exactly happened.”

Harri shook her head, still looking down. She took several deep breaths. “I can’t go back to them. If I tell you, and I go back, I don’t know what will happen.”

Professor McGonagall reached out gently and touched Harri’s hand with her own. Harri flinched, but Professor McGonagall ran a finger over Harri’s knuckles and said a quiet spell. Harri felt much calmer suddenly. Less like she was about to ping-pong around the room.  

“Miss. Potter, let me assure you that you will not be returning to whatever situation caused this. It is not legally or morally permissible.” Professor McGonagall said in a very firm tone. Harri finally looked up and met her spectacled eyes. She didn’t look like she was lying.

“It was my Aunt and Uncle,” Harri explained finally. “It’s always been them. They don’t… treat me well. Sometimes they hit me. A couple times I’m pretty sure they’ve broken my bones. They don’t feed me a lot, and they always yell. If they can see me, they’re upset with me. And until I got my Hogwarts letter, I slept in the cupboard under the stairs.”

Harri had known that these things were not normal. Maybe if she had been the only child in the house, she would have believed that it was normal to be treated that way. She had Dudley to look to though. Saw how his parents loved and adored him even though he was horrible. Had eventually figured out from reading and watching that it was abuse. She never tried to think the word, it felt pathetic to be an abused child. But there it was, abuse. She was making it clear at last to adults who claimed that they could help. She didn’t know if she could really believe them, but Harri figured it was worth a go at this point. The Dursley’s weren’t here to beat her bloody. She had magic, and she would stop them if they tried.

“It was more than a couple times Harriet,” Madame Pomfrey told her. “My scans show that you’ve broken nearly 20 bones if your life.”

Harri shrugged, looking down again. “I think my magic healed me. I never went to a doctor and it always stopped hurting after a week or two.”

“That is what usually happens for magical children, yes,” Madame Pomfrey agreed.

“We may need to get memories from you Harri,” Professor McGonagall told her. “It’s a very simple process, but it won’t be pleasant for you to think about. Not today, but eventually, Professor Snape will join the three of us and will help you extract your memories. They are proof in a court of law of what happened. Your memories will protect you from ever being near your Aunt or Uncle again.”

Harri didn’t much like the idea of having to think about anything they had done to her. She liked to forget about it most of the time. She nodded.

“I will also need you to come to see me every Friday morning,” Madame Pompfry told her. “You have a lot of catching up to do with growing. We’ll fix you right up, and before you know it you’ll be a few inches taller and a little more filled out. A nutritional potion and a child’s growth potion should do the trick for three months.”

Harri brightened at this. She hadn’t liked always being so very small and skinny. Magic could do wonders.

“Thank you, Madame Pomfrey,” she said with a small smile. “I’d like that.” 

* * *

Harri was told to wait in the Hospital Wing for a few hours until her magic evened out. “Try to sleep,” Madame Pomfrey told her gently. She did feel tired, but before she could fully doze off she had visitors. Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Hagrid all appeared to check in on her.

“Blimey mate,” Ron began, “who knew that going invisible would be such a big deal. I thought it was a wicked trick.”

Harri laughed it off as best she could, “Well you know, apparently it’s not great for the magical core to be doing things like that.”

Hermione looked curious and began to ask Harri questions about magical cores. “Did they say why? What does a magical core do exactly? Is it a real anatomical thing, or more of a potential energy site?”

“Hermione, you know I don’t know,” Harri responded with a laugh. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out though. Madame Pince can probably point you in the right direction.”

“You’re right of course!” Hermione said with excitement. Another area of magic for her to be an expert in. “They really should explain these things to Muggle-born students. How are we ever going to learn about them otherwise!”

Neville shrugged, “I don’t really know either, Hermione.” Hermione shot him a look.

“Well you should,” she said with gusto. “How are we to understand magic if we don’t understand the physiology of it all!”

“Would you like to get a head start on research Hermione. I don’t mind. I’m allowed to leave in about an hour anyway.” Hermione looked guilty for a moment but then nodded.

“As long as you don’t mind Harri. Perhaps it will help us understand it though. It is a fascinating ability, and maybe understanding magical cores could help us all with getting magic to occur the correct way.” She was off, muttering to herself as she went.

“I’ll never have to read a book again as long as Hermione’s around,” she said with a laugh to the boys. They both chortled.

“It’s always a muggle-born,” Hagrid informed them. “They feel behind, s’ they research everyth’n to death. Your mum was like that Harri.”

They eased into more cheerful topics, Ron, Neville, and Hagrid happy enough to not discuss why Harri was in the hospital wing. They were delighted to hear Hagrid call Filch “that old git.”

“An’ as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I’d like ter introduce her to me dog Fang sometime. D’yeh know, every time I come up here, she follows me everywhere? Can’t get rid of her- Filch puts her up to it!”

Harri did attempt to explain why she had disappeared during potions. “Snape just really seems to hate me.”

“Rubbish!” said Hagrid. “Why should he?” Hagrid told her not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students.

“How’s yer brother Charlie?” Hagrid asked Ron. “I liked him a lot- great with animals.”

Harry wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose. While Ron told Hagrid all about CHarlie’s work with dragons, Neville showed Harri a copy of the Daily Prophet that was lying on a bedside table. It was apparently the main newspaper of the Wizarding World. Neville was good about that, discreetly trying got catch Hermione and Harri up on things that other students just knew.

“It wouldn’t surprise me if Hermione wanted to subscribe,” Neville said. As he folded it back closed, Harri saw an article with Goblins moving in the picture.

 

**Gringotts Break-In Latest**

_Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown._

_Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day._

_“But we’re not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what’s good for you,” said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon._

 

Harri remembered Ron telling her about it on the train, that someone had tried to rob Gringotts. Ron and Neville hadn’t mentioned the date.

“Hagrid!” said Harri, “that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might’ve been happening while we were there!”

There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely didn’t meet Harri’s eyes this time. He grunted and made his excuses that he had lots to get done today still. “Hope yeh feel better, Harri,” he said as he left.

 _The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day._ Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for?

As Harri, Ron, and Neville finally walked down to dinner, Harri thought that none of the lessons she’d had so far had given her as much to think about as her time in the Hospital Wing. An escape for the Dursleys was on the table. And Hagrid… had Hagrid collected that package just in time? Where was it now? And did Hagrid know something about Snap that he didn’t want to tell Harri? 

* * *

Harri had never believed that she would meet a boy she hated more than Dudley, but that was before she had met Draco Malfoy. He was an absolute jerk to Hermione whenever they were around each other. Calling her names, making fun of her appearance, and commenting that she would never catch up with the real witches and wizards.

They had had to restrain Ron several times from throwing a punch. He probably could have taken Malfoy, but not Crabbe and Goyle who followed Malfoy everywhere.

Still, first-year Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, so they didn’t have to put up with Malfoy much. Or at least, they didn’t until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room that made them all groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday- and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.

“Typical,” said Hermione darkly. “Just what I want, to make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy.”

“You don’t know that you’ll make a fool of yourself,” said Ron reasonably. “Anyway, I know Malfoy’s always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that’s all talk.”

Harri was also a bit concerned about making a fool of herself, but had less reason to worry than Hermione. Anything Hermione failed out was another point that Malfoy could rub in. Harri was so bothered about it she brought it up to Professor Snape when they met for the second time to extract her memories of the Dursleys.

“I know that this isn’t relevant, and you might not care,” Harri said very quickly, “but Draco Malfoy is being just horrible to Hermione Granger. He bullies her all the time. Just because he doesn’t like that she’s his soulmate.” Snape just about dropped his wand.

“You don’t talk about that Potter,” he snapped sharply. Harri felt her heart jump at his anger, and her magic started to swirl. Snape must have noticed her face, because he took several deep breaths before collecting himself.

“I know this is new to you,” he said slowly. “And I can speak to Mr. Malfoy about comporting himself more appropriately. But anything to do with _that_ is between Mr.Malfoy and his family, and Miss. Granger and hers.”

Malfoy certainly did talk about his family all the time. He talked about his broom. He talked about his large home. He talked about the time he got ways from a muggle helicopter. It was all a bit much to stomach. He did talk rather less about Hermione after Snape and Harri’s meeting though.

Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Harri felt she’d had a good reason because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground.  It was only through all four students working determinedly together, that no one fell behind in the practical magic skills. Ron and Neville both had family wands that could give mixed results, and Harri often overpowered her spells. Hermione was often quick to get spells, but anything involving ' _magical expression'_ seemed lost on her.

Hermione began to try to learn flying out of a book, seeing as so far she had learned most everything else that way. At breakfast, on Thursday she bored them all stupid with flying tips she’d gotten out of a library book called _Quidditch Through the Ages_.

“I’ve actually read that one,” Ron whispered to Harri. “Don’t know how she’s making it sound so horrible.”

Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione’s lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.

Harri hadn’t had a single letter since Hagrid’s note, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course. Malfoy’s eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

“It’s a Remembrall!” explained. “Gran knows I forget things- this tells you if there’s something you’ve forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red- oh…” his face fell because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, “you’ve forgotten something…”

Hermione and Harri began to quiz Neville on the thing he could have forgotten and did figure out it was the password. It had changed that day, and Neville had forgotten to look at the notice board to get the new one, ‘Pigsnout’.

Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the now white Remembrall out of Neville's hand.

Harri and Ron jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, though Hermione began to clutch her wand with white-knuckled anger. Before anything could happen, Profesor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there.

“What’s going on?”

“Malfoy’s got my Remembrall, Professor.”

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table. “Just looking,” he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him. 

* * *

At three-thirty that afternoon, Harri and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth flat lawn on the opposite sideof the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Harri had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

She would frankly be quite surprised if she noticed such a thing, considering that her newness to flight would be its own focal point.

Their teacher, Madame Hooch, arrived. She had short gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk. In a way, she reminded Harri of a gym teacher, and she wondered if this was the wizard equivalent of physical education

“Well, what are you all waiting for?” she barked. “Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up.”

Harri glanced down at her broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck up at wrong angles.

“Stick out your right hand over your broom,” called Madam Hooch at the front, “and say ‘UP!”

“UP” everyone shouted.

Harri’s broom jumped into her hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione’s broom simply rolled over. She blushed a little, and Harri gave her an encouraging smile. Harri kept watch and noticed that Hermione did manage it one attempt behind Malfoy. Neville, on the other hand, was not able to get his broom into his hand by command and leaned down to pick it up when Madame Hooch wasn’t looking. His voice had said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet firmly on the ground.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Hermione was delighted when Hooch told Malfoy he’d been doing it wrong for years.

“Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard,” said Madam Hooch. “Keep your brooms stead, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle- three - two-”

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch’s lips.

“Come back, boy!” she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle- twelve feet- twenty feet. Harri saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and-

WHAM- a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap. Harri and Hermione both gave off little screams. Neville’s broomstick was still rising higher and higher and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

“Broken wrist,” Harri heard her mutter. “Come on boy- it’s all right, up you get.”

She turned to the rest of the class. “None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you’ll be out of Hogwarts before you can say ‘Quidditch.’ Come on dear,”

Hermione, who looked rather like she didn’t want to fly piped up, “Would you mind if I came too, Madame Hooch? I don’t want Neville to be alone!”

Madame Hooch gave a distracted nod, and the trio headed back up the steps of the school.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter. “Did you see his face, the great lump? And mudblood Granger running off with him”

The other Slytherins joined in. Ron and a few Gryffindors gasped.

“Shut up, Malfoy,” snapped Parvati.

“Oooh, sticking up for Longbottom and Granger?” said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. “Never thought you’d like fat little crybabies Parvati. Or pissy little know-it-alls”

“Look!” said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. “It’s that stupid thing Longbottom’s gran sent him.”

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

“Give that here, Malfoy,” said Harri. She didn’t know what a mudblood was, but she could tell by Ron’s face it wasn’t a nice name at all.

Malfoy smiled nastily. “I think I’ll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find- how about- up a tree?”

“Give it _here_!” Harri yelled. Her magic sparked around her and her hair started to frizz.

But Malfoy had lept onto his broomstick and taken off. He hadn’t been lying, he could fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, “Come and get it, Potter!”

Harri grabbed her broom. Blood was pounding in her ears and magic was buzzing at her fingertips. How dare this rubbish ass insult her friends. She mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up she soared; air rushed through her hair, and her robes whipped out behind her- and in a rush of fierce joy she realized she’d found something she could do without being taught- this was easy, this was wonderful. She pulled the broomstick up a little to take it ever higher and heard screams and gasps from Parvati and Lavender back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Ron.

She turned the broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in midair. Malfoy looked stunned. “Give it here,” she called, “or I’ll knock you off that broom!”

“Oh, yeah?” said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but looking worried. Her magic was affecting the wind at this point. Harri was somehow holding steady effortlessly while Malfoy was starting to be battered around. He was clearly concentrating on holding the broom steady.

Harri somehow knew what to do. She leaned forward and shot toward Malfoy like a javelin. Malfoy only just got out of the way in time; she made a sharp about-face and held the broom steady. It was effortless.

“No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your back, Malfoy,” Harri called.

The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy. “Catch it if you can then!” he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.

Harri saw, as though in slow motion, the ball rise up in the air and then start to fall. She leaned forward and pointed her broom handle down- next second she was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball- wind whistled in her ears, mingled with the screams of people watching-she stretched out her hand- a foot from the ground she caught it, just in time to pull her broom straight, and she toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in her fist.

“HARRIET POTTER!”

Her heart sank faster than she’d just dived, Professor McGonagall was running toward them. She got to her feet, trembling. Her errant magic had begun to gather around her, and she tried to control the wonky flow of it.

“ _Never_ \- in all my time at Hogwarts-”

 Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, “- how dare you- might have broken your neck-”

"It wasn’t her fault, Professor-”

“Be quiet, Miss. Patil-”

“But Malfoy-”

“That’s enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter follow me, now.”

Harri caught sight of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle’s triumphant faces as she left, walking numbly in Professor McGonagall’s wake as she strode toward the castle. She was going to be expelled, she just knew it.

“You won’t send me back to the Dursleys even if you expel me, right?” Harri asked in a nervous tremor.

Professor McGonagall looked so shocked she almost stopped completely in her tracks. “Miss Potter, of course not. I’ve told you, there is no way that you will return to those people. No, Miss. Potter. I have something else entirely in mind,” and she kept walking.

Harri could only follow. 

* * *

_“You’re joking._ ”

It was dinnertime. Harri had just finished telling Ron, Hermione, and Neville what had happened when she’d left the grounds with Professor McGonagall. Ron had a piece of steak and kidney pie halfway to his mouth, but he’d forgotten all about it.

“ _Seeker?_ ” Ron asked. “But first years _never_ \- you must be the youngest house player in about-”

“- a century,” said Harri, picking at her pie. She felt nervous as could be. Flying was great, but playing a game in front of the whole school sounded rather horrid. “Wood told me.”

Ron and Nevile were so amazed, so impressed, that they just gaped at Harri. She changed the subject. “Here’s your Remembrall, Neville. How is your wrist?”

“Oh it’s fine Harri, Madame Pomfrey fixed it up in a second. Hermione hung out with me till she let me go, thanks for going with me Hermione!”

Hermione had been unusually quiet through this conversation. She clearly didn’t approve of rule breaking, but it seemed her dislike for Draco Malfoy was in direct conflict with this value. “That… prat,” she hissed to herself.

Fred and George Weasley now came into the hall, spotted Harri and hurried over.  “Well done,” said George in a low voice. “Wood told us. We’re on the team too- Beaters.”

“I tell you, we’re going to win that Quidditch cup for sure this year,” said Fred. “We haven’t won since Charlie left, but this year’s team is going to be brilliant. You must be good, Harri, Wood was almost skipping when he told us.”  

Harri felt her stomach sink further, it must be in the carpet by now. Hermione looked at the twins oddly. “Didn’t Charlie only graduate two years ago? That isn’t very long.”

“It is in Quidditch!” Ron exclaimed.

“Anyway, we’ve got to go, Lee Jordan reckons he’s found a new secret passageway out of the school.”

Fred and George had hardly disappeared when someone far less welcome turned up: Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

“Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?”

“You’re a lot braver now that you’re back on the ground and you’ve got your little friends with you,” Harri said cooly. There was of course nothing at all little about Crabbe and Goyle, but as the High Table was full of teachers, neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles or scowl.

“I’d take you on anytime on my own,” said Malfoy. “Tonight if you want. Wizard’s duel. Wands only- not contact. What’s the matter? Never heard of a wizard’s duel before, I suppose?”

Ron opened his mouth, but before he could speak Hermione jutted in with a glare, “You don’t want to duel Harri, Malfoy. You’ve seen her in class. She’d blast you out of the castle. How about me though. I hear you’ve called me a rather rude name. Harri can be my second. Who is yours?”

Malfoy’s smirk faltered. Then he looked over at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up. “Crabe,” he said. “Midnight all right? We’ll meet you in the trophy room; that’s always unlocked.”

When Malfoy had gone, Ron and Neville stared at Hermione in opened mouthed shock. “You’re going to duel Malfoy?” Neville asked in whispered shock.

“The stupid prat deserves it. Calling me names. ME! Well, I’ll show him. Show him that Muggle-borns are just as good as any pureblood wizard. That he should only be so lucky!” She devolved into muttering in anger.

Clearly, Hermione’s sanity had left the building.

* * *

Harri was very aware that there was a very good chance that they were going to get caught by Filtch, but the manic gleam had not disappeared from Hermione’s eyes even as they headed down to the common room at midnight.

“I can’t believe you’re going to do this, Hermione,” Neville said when they arrived. He and Ron were waiting for them by the portrait hole. “You do know we could lose so many house points right?” Neville looked nervous.

“Don’t come then,” Hermione said flippantly. “Or do. You can watch me win against Malfoy and shut his stupid gob.”

“Maybe we should stay here Ron, two students out of bed is better than four,” Neville said.

“Are you kidding mate, I’m not missing Hermione beating Malfoy into a pulp.” Ron had really reformed his opinion on Hermione. Before today he was generally annoyed by her. Now it seemed he completely approved of her. “Anyway, the fat lady is gone.”

Neville turned and saw that the Fat Lady had gone on a nighttime visit, and he was locked out of Gryffindor tower. He shrugged. “All right, we all go.”

They flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. At every turn, Harri expected to run into Filch or Mrs. Norris, but they were lucky. They sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoes toward the trophy room.

Malfoy and Crabbe weren’t there yet. The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Harri took out her wand in case Malfoy leapt in and started at once before Hermione was ready. The minutes crept by.

“He’s late, maybe he’s chickened out,” Ron whispered.

Then a noise in the next room made them jump. Harri had only just raised her wand when they heard someone speak- and it wasn’t Malfoy.

“Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner.”  It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. Horror-struck, Harri waved maniacally at the other three to follow her as quickly as possible; they scurried silently toward the door, away from Filch’s voice. Neville’s robes had barely whipped around the corner when they head Filch enter the trophy room.

“They’re in here somewhere,” they heard him mutter, “probably hiding.”

“This way!” Harri mouthed to the others and, petrified, they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor. They could hear Filch getting nearer. Neville, who had always been very clumsy, tripped over nothing, grabbed Ron for balance, but ended up knocking the pair of them right into a suit of armor.

The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle.

“RUN!” Harry yelled, and the four of them sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see if Filch was following. Harri was in the lead without any idea of where they were going- they ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which they knew was miles from the trophy room.

“I think we’ve lost him,” Harri panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping her forehead. Neville was bent double, wheezing and spluttering.

“I- can’t- believe,” Hermione gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest, “Malfoy- tricked- me.”

Harri realized she was probably right. “We’ve got to get back to Gryffindor tower,” said Ron, “quickly as possible.”

“He tricked me,” Hermione kept on, looking angrier than she had all day. “He was never going to meet us- Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off.”

“Let’s go,” Harri said, reaching out to take Hermione’s hand. It was the first time in a long time that Harri had initiated contact with someone. It felt good to give Hermione comfort.

It wasn’t going to be as simple as getting back to Gryffindor tower though. They hadn’t gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them.

It was Peeves. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight.

“Shut up, Peeves- please- you’ll get us thrown out.”

Peeves cackled. “Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut Tut. Naughty, naughty, you’ll get caughty.”

“Not if you don’t give us away, Peeves, please.”

“Should tell Filch, I should,” said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. “It’s for your own good, you know.”

“Get out of the way,” snapped Ron, taking a swipe at Peeves- this was a big mistake.

“STUDENTS OUT OF BED!” Peeves bellowed, “STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!”

Ducking under Peeves, they ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door- and ti was locked

“This is it!” Ron moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door, “We’re done for! This is the end!”

They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could toward Peeve’s shouts.

“Oh move over,” Hermione snarled. She brandied her wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, “ _Alohomora!_ ”  The lock clicked and the door swung open- they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.

“Which way did they go, Peeves?”

But Harri didn’t keep listening. She felt something… odd in the air. Like a brush of the wind or her neck. She turned and saw there a three-headed dog breathing quite close to them. It looked very surprised to see them and hadn’t immediately reacted to their presence.

Now, this might have been a time for panic. It really might have. But they only area of study that Harri knew better than Hermione was the naturalist section. So she knew, without a doubt, that this was a Cerebrus. And that the only way to get a Cerberus to not attack you is to play music. She had particularly noticed this and thought it was quite fun to compose a little ditty on her guitar about the animal. But Harri didn’t have a guitar.

 _God rest ye merry gentlemen_  
_Let nothing you dismay_  
_Remember Christ our Savior_  
_Was born on Christmas Day_  
_To save us all from Satan's pow'r_  
_When we were gone astray_  
_Oh tidings of comfort and joy_  
_Comfort and joy_  
_Oh tidings of comfort and joy_

It was the only song she could think of. A song that always made its appearance at Christmas service. She had played it countless times on the piano from the hymnal she had knicked. She sang as quietly as she dared, praying that Filch couldn’t hear her through the door. The others had turned when she started singing, and Ron rather looked like he was about to scream. Neville quickly had covered his mouth.

Hermione joined in on the second verse, noticing that the dog was starting to slump down to sleep. 

 _God rest ye merry gentlemen_  
_Let nothing you dismay_  
_Remember Christ our Savior_  
_Was born on Christmas Day_  
_To save us all from Satan's pow'r_  
_When we were gone astray_  
_Oh tidings of comfort and joy_  
_Comfort and joy_ _  
Oh tidings of comfort and joy_

Finally, the dog was asleep and Harri kept on with just the line of _God rest ye merry gentleman let nothing you dismay_ over and over again. She motioned for the others to check and see if Filch was gone, and they found that he indeed was. Carefully and still singing softly, the four students left the room. All of them safe from harm.

The adrenalin that they all felt caused them to take off in a run as soon as they were in the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else- but they hardly cared. They didn’t stop running until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.

“Where on earth have you all been?” she asked, looking at their bathrobes hanging off their shoulders and their flushed, sweaty faces.

“Never mind that- pig snout, pig snout,” panted Harri, and the portrait swung forward. They scrambled into the common room and collapsed, trembling, into armchairs.

It was a while before any of them said anything. Neville, indeed, looked as if he’d never speak again.

“What do they think they’re doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?” Ron said finally. “If any dog needs exercise, that one does.”

Hermione had got both her breath and her bad temper back again. “You don’t use your eyes, any of you, do you?” She snapped. “Didn’t you see what it was standing on?”

Neville nodded, “A trap door. It’s great big paw was laying on it,” he said with a shiver. Hermione looked a bit surprised that Neville, who had been nearly numb with terror, had noticed it at all.

“Yes,” she said, deflated. “It’s obviously guarding something.” She stood up. “Well, tonight was obviously a disaster. Come on Harri, let's get to bed.”

Harri suddenly had something else to think about as she climbed into bed. The dog was guarding something… What had Hagrid said? Gringotts was the safest place in the world for something you wanted to hide- except perhaps Hogwarts.

It looked as though Harri had found out where the grubby little package from vault seven hundred and thirteen was.


	9. Halloween

Malfoy couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw that Harri and Hermione were still at Hogwarts the next day, looking tired by perfectly cheerful. Indeed, by the next morning, Harri and Ron thought that meeting the three-headed dog had been an excellent adventure, and they were quite keen to have another one. Hermione and Neville thought that they were barmy.

In the meantime, Harri filled in her three friends about the package that seemed to have been moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts, and they spent a lot of time wondering what could possibly need such heavy protection while still being so small.

“It’s either really valuable or really dangerous,” said Ron.

“Or both,” squeaked Neville.

“I think dangerous is more likely,” said Hermione thoughtfully. “If it was just valuable, then Gringotts would have done well enough for it. But for some reason, Dumbledore doesn’t want it falling into the wrong hands.”

“If it’s dangerous why on earth would it be at a school!” Ron exclaimed, his freckles standing out against his white face.

“All I think,” began Neville, “Is that we should never go near that dog again. Three heads! How do you keep yourself from being bit!”

“Singing,” Hermione reminded him. “Harri, how on earth did you know to do that.”

“It was in a book I read,” Harri explained. “ _Fact and Myth of Ancient Creatures._ ”

“Oh I haven’t gotten to that one yet,” Hermione said in frustration. She was trying to read the entire Hogwarts library before graduation.

“Well lucky Harri did, at least she’s learned something useful,” said Ron, back to being derisive towards Hermione.  Harri elbowed Ron, as was quickly becoming her habit. Hermione just glared at Ron and then flounced off to the library.

They all still wanted a way to get back at Malfoy, and such a thing arrived in the mail about a week later. Harri’s new broomstick.

_DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE_

_It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don’t want everybody knowing you’ve got a broomstick or they’ll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o’clock for your first training session_

_Professor M McGonagall_

Harri had difficulty hiding her glee at the new broom as she handed the note to Ron and Neville to read.

“A Nimbus Two Thousand!” Ron moaned enviously. “I’ve never even touched one.”

Used to the pang of envy Harri said, “Let’s all go flying this weekend then. You can give it a go too!”

Neville shook his head firmly. “Have fun without me.” But Ron seemed to cheer up at the idea.

They left the hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broomstick in private before their first class, but halfway across the entrance hall, they found the way upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy seized the package from Harri and felt it.

“That’s a broomstick,” he said, throwing it back to Harri with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. “You’ll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren’t allowed them.”

Ron couldn’t resist it.

“It’s not any old broomstick,” he said, “it’s a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you’ve got a home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?” Ron grinned at Harri, “Comets look flashy, but they’re not in the same league as the Nimbus.”

“What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn’t afford half the handle,” Malfoy snapped back. “I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig.”

Before Ron could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy’s elbow.  “Not arguing, I hope.”

“Potter’s been sent a broomstick, Professor,” said Malfoy quickly.

“Yes, yes, that’s right,” said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Harri. “Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?”

“A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir,” said Harri fighting not to laugh at the look of horror on Malfoy’s face. “And it’s really thanks to Malfoy here that I’ve got it,” she added.

* * *

Harri was due to meet with Professor Snape in the Hospital Wing after her first class. While double potions could at times be difficult, it appeared Snape was trying much harder to be neutral towards Gryffindor.

They had slowly begun to extract memories of the Dursley’s abuse from Harri’s head. She didn’t like remembering them or letting them be seen by anyone. However, the knowledge that they would protect her from the Dursley’s kept her from protesting.

After the first session, Harri had assured Professor McGonagall that she was comfortable enough with Professor Snape to meet in the Hospital Wing without her direct presence. Madame Pomphry was obviously still in the room, but she was no longer sitting beside Harri holding her hand either.

“It’s easier if it’s more private,” Harri had explained to the two women. “I don’t want… I don’t want to think about who all will see this. I’d rather pretend it’s just one person.” 

At first, she hadn’t understood why it had to be Professor Snape who looked through her head. “Why aren’t you doing it?” she had asked Madame Pomphry.

“Professor Snape is a master of the mind arts,” the matron had responded with a hint of reverence. “He’s a master of several subjects. Defense, Mind Magic, Potions. He’s a journeyman in Healing as well.”

“And you’re not?” she asked Madame Pomphry.

“Oh no, dear. I’m a Master of Healing, with an emphasis in pediatrics. But one of the benefits of being at a school is that we have many masters within these halls to act as a consult.”

“Which Professor has the most masteries?” Harri had asked, curious.

“I imagine Professor Dumbledore. I know he has Transfiguration, he used to teach it. He also is a Master of the Mind Arts, because Professor Snape trained under him. He is a Zoologist and an accomplished Dueler. Not to mention he did an apprenticeship under Nicholas Flammel for alchemy. It’s hard to say which formal routes he’s gone through, but he certainly has experience in a very wide range of subjects.”

“Wow,’ Harri said. “There really is so much to learn even after Hogwarts.”

Harri had just finished pulling up a particularly painful memory for Professor Snape about a time when she was five. Uncle Vernon had shouted at her about her inability to do anything well after she had accidentally poured bacon fat on herself, burning her legs and arms. Her mind flashed towards the broomstick she had unwrapped, and anxiety about Quidditch filled her. She would be expected by all of Gryffindor to be good at Quidditch. 

“I don’t much care for flying,” Snape commented.

Harri jumped. “I thought you just saw the memories about the Dursleys,” she said indignantly.

“Use your head girl,” he hissed. “I am in your mind. While there, your every fancy and distraction is apparent to me.”

Harri blushed, feeling foolish. “I like to fly,” she muttered while looking down. “I just don’t know about actually performing a sport. I may let everyone down.”  

“I doubt it,” Snape said. “Your father was an obnoxiously good Quidditch player. Strutted around the whole school after every game.”

Snape would sometimes make comments like this. It was very clear he hadn’t cared for her father. It frustrated her, because she wanted to think the best of her father. Snape certainly wasn’t helping, because so far he was her main account of him.  

“Please stop making comments like that,” she whispered. Snape glared. “I know, I realize you didn’t like him. But I never knew him. And as far as I know, he died protecting me. I want to love my father. But I don’t know much about him other than his name was James.”

Snape signed, looking very strained. “I will do my best, Miss. Potter. Your father and I did not get along at Hogwarts. I imagine if you want a more flattering account you should write to Remus Lupin.”

“Who?” Harri asked in excitement.

“Remus Lupin. He was a good friend of your fathers at Hogwarts. The only one unscathed by the war. If you would like to know about your father, I imagine he would give you the most… caring account.”

“What about my mother?” Harri asked. “Who were her friends? Do you think I could write one of them about her?” This horrible session was turning into a wonderful thing. People who knew her parents!

Snape's face looked very pained. He looked like he didn’t want to continue the conversation, anger flashed across his face, then he closed his eyes and pinched his nose. He looked tired and resigned. “I suppose… I would be the one who could tell you the most about Lily.”

Harri stared at him in shock. “What?” Harri asked.

“Lily… Lily and I were close friends for many years. I was the one who told her she was a witch.”

“You did? You grew up with my mother?” Harri asked in muted excitement. Snape looked so very sad.

“I wouldn't say 'grew up'. We lived near each other in Cokeworth. But I didn’t associate with other children very much. My home life… left much to be desired. I didn’t want other children to know.” Harri nodded, understanding that perfectly.

“I noticed your mother. It would have been hard not to. Even as a young girl she was very beautiful. Full of energy, like the sun really. She did magic like breathing.” Snape looked wistful.

“Her sister was yelling at her one day in the park after she did magic. Neither of them knew what it was, and Petunia kept calling her a freak. Your mother looked so sad…”

“You knew Aunt Petunia too?” Harri asked, having forgotten that obviously, Aunt Petunia would have grown up in Cokeworth too.

Snape's lips twisted. “Your memories have only shown me what I already knew. That Petunia was a hateful, horrid woman. She was no different as a child.”

“But you saw my mother performing magic?” Harri asked.

“Yes, and it was breathtaking. I went over and told her what it was….” He trailed off, his hand clasped around the silver covering on his wrist.

Harri realized something. It came out of her mouth before she could stop herself. “My mother was your soulmate.” His face twisted in shocked anger.

She instantly flinched, covering her head with her arms, realizing that Professor Snape would surely hit her for saying such a thing; would curse her or yell at her. Stupid Harri. You didn't talk about these things. Why couldn't she keep protocol straight? She would never do anything right.

No blow came. Only silence.

She peaked back up at Professor Snape. He was sitting very still, looking at her with pained pity. “Miss. Potter…. If your mother was alive you would never react the way you do to these things.” He sighed.  “It does not matter what your mother was to me. I was not her soulmate, and she eventually married the man who was.”

“You must hate me,” Harri said shakily.

“No, Miss. Potter. You are a child who was put into an impossible situation. Your parent's death, and those who caused it, pain me far more than you ever could.”  

Harri saw nothing but the truth on her professor’s face. “Thank you for sharing this with me, sir. I know it wasn’t easy.”

“You are sharing things with me that are not easy either, Miss. Potter. Let us call it tit for tat.”

Harri nodded, and they returned to the matter of collecting Harri’s memories. She had a new warmth for her professor. Harri now had the knowledge of why he wanted to help her, it was for her mother.

* * *

Harri returned from Quidditch practice that night feeling much better about the prospect of playing for the house team. It turned out that the seeker’s main job was simply to fly around. Most people forgot about them until the snitch was caught. While she was still dubious about the entire prospect, it seemed like something she could manage. If only so she could fly.

The Nimbus flew like a dream. Harri had never felt so free. She soared around the pitch like a blur, pulling off loops and dives that she somehow just _knew_ how to perform. Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, was practically singing by the end of her practice.

“That Quidditch cup’ll have our name on it this year,” he had exclaimed happily as they trudged back up to the cast. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you turn out better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played for England if he hadn’t gone off chasing dragons.”

Harri’s mood was let down when she entered her dorm though. Parvati and Lavender were down in the common room playing Exploding Snap with Neville and Ron. Harri was looking forward to shower and bed.

She found Hermione crying on her bed, Gulliver purring and rubbing himself against Hermione’s side.

“Hermione!” Harri exclaimed, rushing toward her. “What is it? What happened?”

Hermione looked up, her face streaked with tears. “I ran into Malfoy, that prat. I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s stupid. This whole thing is stupid.”

Harri hugged her friend, sitting next to her on the bed. “I know Hermione. I really do. I’m so sorry you have a horrible soulmate. He’s the absolute worst, but you don’t have to have anything to do with him.”

“It’s not that I do want anything to do with him,” Hermione sobbed. “I just wanted someone who would like me. I’ve always been a bossy prude or a bookworm with no friends. I know that’s what people think of me. And when I heard about soulmates, I thought… well I thought that at least one person would have to like me. And he’s an utter twat.”

“We can be each other’s soulmates then, Hermione. I never had any friends before you either.”

“You say that now,” Hermione said with a gasping sob, “But one day someone will say your words, and you won’t think that anymore. You’ll get tired of me, and I’ll just be alone with my books.”

“Someone already said my words, Hermione,” Harri said in a whisper. Hermione looked up from Harri’s shoulder, tears still dripping down her face.

“You never said anything,” Hermione said with a slight accusation in her tone.

Harri shook her head, “And I never will look at those words again if I can help it. But trust me, Hermione,” and here a few tears started to drip down Harri’s face, “I will never be with my soulmate. They’re the worst kind of person… worse than Draco Malfoy I’d even say.” She tried to say the last part as a joke, but Hermione didn’t bite. She seemed to understand that Harri wasn’t joking.

“It’s not Professor Snape is it?” Hermione asked.

“Eww, Hermione!” Harri exclaimed. That morning's conversation with the professor was still fresh in her mind. 

Hermione let out a half hiccup giggle.

“We can really be each other’s soulmates, Hermione,” Harri assured. “Maybe one day Draco Malfoy will be less of a pratt. But until then, you’ll have me. I promise.” The two friends hugged, and while neither one of them felt completely better about their horrible soulmarks, they felt assured by the company of their first friend.

* * *

Perhaps it was because she was now so busy, what with Quidditch practice three evenings a week on top of all her homework, but Harri could hardly believe it when she realized she’d already been at Hogwarts two months. The castle felt more like home than Privet Drive ever had. Her lessons, too, were becoming more and more interesting now that they had mastered the basics.

The possibility of blowing something up was still there for Harri, but she had taken Professor Snape’s advice about ‘clearing her mind’ before attempting magic so that it would channel correctly. He had even given her a book on Occlumency, saying that the mind art would help her overpowered spells.

Harri had never tried meditation before, but Occlumency seemed a lot like the muggle practice. Snape’s eye had twitched when she had said as much.

On Halloween morning they woke up to the delicious smell of baking pumpkins wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly, something they had all been dying to try since they’d seen him make Neville’s toad zoom around the classroom. Professor Flitwick put the class in pairs to practice. Harri’s partner was Lavender, which was good fun. Lavender had just gotten a new copy of Witch Weekly and was telling Harri her horoscope between spell attempts.

“So you’re a Leo,” Lavender was saying, “ _The social agitation that has been in your life for the last three weeks is coming to an end, Leo. The celestial energy will help you learn some lessons and prepare for the next cycle. It would be great if you had some success and honors because this would help you confront the coming weeks. It will be a time of meditation and feeling a little bit disconnected from the world.”_

Harri could hear Hermione and Ron bickering at the next table. She turned to Lavender, “They’re my social agitation. Do you think they’re going to make friends now?”

“It’s what the stars predict,” Lavender said solemnly, before attempting to levitate her feather.

“You’re saying it all wrong,” Harri head Hermione snap. “It’s Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa make the ‘gar’ nice and long.”

“You do it then, if you’re so clever.” Ron snarled.

Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her gown, flicked her wand, and said, “ _Wingardium Leviosa!”_ Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.

“Oh well done!” cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. “Everyone see here, Miss. Granger’s done it!”

Ron was in a very bad mood by the end of class. Harri and Hermione were walking behind him, he was talking to Neville. “She’s the absolute worst! It’s no wonder Malfoy doesn’t want anything to do with her! I almost feel sorry for him, she’s a nightmare.”

Harri turned to Hermione, and she saw her friend’s face crumble into tears. Hermione knocked into Neville as she ran away. Harri began to run after her, but paused to snap angrily at Ron, “You utter prat. Why would you say something like that!”

Harri was able to track Hermione down with the help of Parvati and Lavender. She was crying in the girl's bathroom and wanted to be left alone. The feast would be starting soon, and Hermione was shooing them away. Parvati and Lavender left with some hesitation, but Harri wouldn’t budge.

“Please Harri, I just want to be alone,” Hermione said through tears.

“Let me be alone with you then,” Harri replied, sitting outside the stall Hermione was in. “I won’t say anything till you say something to me. But I’ll be right out here if you need me.”

Eventually, Hermione came out and the two sat against the wall and talked about things other than Ron Weasley or Draco Malfoy. They talked about the Muggle world, and Hermione confessed that she had no idea what she would be once she left Hogwarts.

“I always thought I’d be a barrister or scientist. I just don’t know how that translates to the magical world.”

“Well I know we can do apprenticeships after Hogwarts in specific fields to become a Master. Madame Pomphry was telling me about it,” Harri explained.

They were so engrossed with their conversation that they didn’t notice the troll that had come into the bathroom until it let out a low roar.

The girls turned from their position against the wall and saw a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body was like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. Not to mention the smell! Like old socks and a public toilet that never gets cleaned.

Hermione screamed first.

Both girls shot as far away from the troll as they could, and Harri was desperately trying to think of something that they could do against the monster. It had a giant club that it was lifting towards them. Distantly she thought she head someone calling hers and Hermione’s names.

The troll began to knock sinks off the wall, each large noise made Harri jump in terror. What on Earth could they do? She didn’t know any magic that would work against a troll. Except maybe trying to explode it.

 _‘Wingardium Leviosa’_ Harri tried, completely overpowering her spell. The troll started to bleed from its nose which only made it seem angrier.

“Oy, pea-brain!” someone yelled. It was Ron. He was on the other side of the chamber with Neville, and he threw a metal pipe at the troll. The troll didn’t even seem to notice the pipe hitting his shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused, turning its ugly snout toward Ron and Neville instead of Harri and Hermione. The two boys began to shout at the troll.

Harri tried to pull Hermione toward the door, but she wouldn't move, she was still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror.

The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again and started toward Ron, who was nearest and had no way of escape.

Harri then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: She took a great running jump and managed to fasten her arms around the troll’s neck from behind. The troll couldn’t feel Harri hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you still a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harri’s wand had still been in her hand when she’d jumped- it had gone straight up one of the trolls bloody nostrils.

Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Harri clinging on for dear life; any second, the troll was going to rip her off or catch her with a terrible blow with the club.

Hermione had sunk to the floor in fright; Ron pulled out his own wand- not knowing what he was going to do he heard himself cry the first spell that came into his head: “ _Wingardium Leviosa!_ ”

The club flew suddenly out of the troll’s hand, rose high, high up into the air, turned slowly over- and dropped, with a sickening crack, onto its owner’s head. The troll swayed on the spot and then fell flat on its face, with a thud that made the whole room tremble.

Harri got to her feet. She was shaking and out of breath. Ron was standing there with his wand still raised, staring at what he had done. Neville looked a bit amazed that he had even come on this adventure. It was the three-headed dog all over again.

It was Hermione who spoke first. “Is it- dead?”

“I don’t think so,” said Harri, “I think it’s just been knocked out.” She bent down and pulled her wand out of the troll’s nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue and blood. “Ugh- troll boogers.”

She wiped it on the troll’s trousers.

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the three of them look up. They hadn’t realized what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have head the crashes and the troll’s roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrel bringing up the rear. Quirrel took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart.

Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at the four of them. Harri had never seen her look so angry. Her lips were white.

“What on earth were you thinking of?” said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. Harri looked at Ron and Neville, who had clearly known about the troll and come looking for her and Hermione.

Then a small voice came out of the shadows. “Please, Professor McGonagall- they were looking for me.”

“Miss. Granger!”

Hermione had managed to get to her feet at last. “I went looking for the troll because I- I thought I could deal with it on my own- you know because I ‘ve read all about them.”

Ron dropped his wand. Hermione Granger, telling a downright lie to a teacher?

“If they hadn’t found me, I’d be dead now. Neville distracted it, then Harri stuck her wand up its nose, and Ron knocked it out with its own club.” Harri rather thought her tackle tactic could have been omitted. “They didn’t have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived.”

Harri, Ron, and Neville tried to look as though this story wasn’t new to them.

“Well- in that case…” said Professor McGonagall, staring at the four of them, “Miss. Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?”

Hermione hung her head. Harri was speechless. Hermione was the last person to do anything against the rules, and here she was, pretending she had, to get Ron and Neville out of trouble. It was as if Snape had started handing out sweets.

“Miss. Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this,” said Professor McGonagall. “I’m very disappointed in you. If you’re not hurt at all, you’d better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses.”

Hermione left.

Professor McGonagall turned to Harri, Ron, and Neville.

“Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore will be hearing about this. You may go.”

They hurried out of the chamber and didn’t speak at all until they had climbed two floors up. It was a relief to be away from the smell of the troll, quite apart from anything else.

“We should have gotten more than fifteen points,” Ron grumbled.

“Ten you mean, once she’s taken off Hermione’s,” said Neville.

“Good of her to get us out of trouble like that,” Ron admitted. “Mind you, we did save you both.”

“It was good of you both to come, I don’t know what we would have done,” Harri responded, taking both of their hands.

They reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

“Pig Snout,” they said and entered.

The common room was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food that had been sent up. Hermione, however, stood alone by the door, waiting for them. There was a very embarrassed pause. Then, none of them looking at each other, they all said “Thanks,” and hurried off to get plates.

But from that moment on, Hermione Granger became friends with Ron Weasley. There are some things you can’t share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.

Lavender and her stars, Harri realized, had been right.


	10. Quidditch

Three days after the incident with the troll, Harri received a letter. It was a month in coming, and Harri had begun to wonder if she would ever receive a reply to the note she had dispatched to Remus Lupin. Her own note had read:

_Dear Mr. Lupin,_

_My name is Harri Potter and I have learned from a professor of mine at Hogwarts, Professor Snape, that you knew my father quite well at Hogwarts. I don’t know much about my parents. My aunt and uncle didn’t talk about them, and I didn’t know about magic until I received my Hogwarts letter. I was hoping that you might be able to tell me about my father. I don’t have anything specific in mind, maybe just something kinder than what Professor Snape has to say about him. In any case, I hope this letter finds you well, and that if it isn’t an inconvenience you could write me back._

_Harri_

It had taken five drafts before Harri felt comfortable sending the letter off with one of the school owls. She hadn’t wanted to come across as an ignorant school-girl, though she was pretty sure she had. Harri just hadn’t written many letters in her life. She didn’t know how to address Remus Lupin. She could only hope that he might write back.

And he did.

_Dear Harri,_

_I apologize for the late reply, I was recently ill and was indisposed for about a week. I was very shocked to receive your letter, and even more surprised to hear that you live with your Aunt and Uncle. Your mother and her sister did not get along._

_Harri, your father was the best of men in my eyes. I miss him dearly, and it saddens me greatly that you don’t know anything about him. We were dorm mates in Hogwarts. I was often ill, and your father went above and beyond when it came to assisting me at school. There was never a time or a place that I was happier, and that was largely thanks to your father and our friends at the time._

_In school, your father and I formed a group called The Mauraders, and we got into trouble often. Your father was very clever with a wand and enjoyed making mischief whenever possible. Our seventh year your father was Head Boy along with your mother as Head Girl. It was the first year he didn’t blow anything up. Perhaps it was the long nights patrolling the corridors, but your mother finally agreed to give your father a chance._

_They were soulmates and knew it from the moment they got on the Hogwarts Express. I think at first Lily was enamored with him, but James being eleven, wasn’t very mature yet. By the end of the first week, Lily declared that there must be some mistake._

_So finally, they started seeing each other and fell madly in love. Their happiness only grew when you were born, Harri. If I can tell you anything in this letter that your parents would want you to know it is this- they loved you completely. More than anything in the world, including their own lives. I wish they could have seen you grow up. In a perfect world, you would have grown up with your parents and three strange uncles. I still mourn dearly that isn’t the world you live in._

_I can remember the day you were born with perfect clarity. Your mother was overdue by about a week, and your father was losing his mind. Lily begged us to get him out of the house, so we took him out to a pub for a few hours. By the time we made it back to Godric's Hollow, Lily had already left for St. Mungo's. Her friend Alice was in the healer training program and had stayed with Lily until we dragged your not so sober father to the hospital. Your father made more noise than your mother honestly. Running around like a madman. He had no idea what to do with himself. Until he held you for the first time. He looked down at you in his arms, and the man I knew changed. He had looked so lost before, none of us had any idea what it would be like to be a parent. He was looking down at you, and it was as if his entire world shifted._

_I hope this letter finds you well,_

_Remus (Mooney) Lupin_

Harri was glad she had elected to read this letter in private. It was a much better account of her father than the one Professor Snape had given, she thought, dabbing her eyes.

* * *

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered with frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.

The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harri would be playing her first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the house championship.

Hardly anyone had seen Harri play because Wood had decided that, as their secret weapon, Harri should be kept, well, secret. But the news that she was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow, and Harri didn’t know which was worse- people telling her she’d be brilliant or people telling her they’d be running around underneath her holding a mattress. She was worried she would spend the entire match semi-visible out of sheer embarrassment.

Harri was ever thankful that she had Hermione as a friend. She didn’t know how she would have gotten through all her homework without her, what with all the last-minute Quidditch practice Wood was making them do. She had also lent Harri _Quidditch Through the Ages_ , which turned out to be a very interesting read.

Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since Ron and Neville had saved them from the mountain troll, and she was much nicer for it. The day before Harri’s first Quidditch match the four of them were out in the freezing courtyard during a break, and she had conjured them up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar. They were standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crossed the yard. Harri noticed at once that he was limping.

He was also clearly in a foul temper. Something about their guilty faces caught his eye. He limped over. He hadn’t seen the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to tell them off anyway.

“It’s Friday, Miss. Potter. Have you been to the hospital wing today?”

“No sir, I was…”

“Do not waste Madame Pomphry’s time then. If you are supposed to go in the morning I suggest you use your breaks more wisely than loitering around.”

He then limped off. Harri’s relationship with Professor Snape was complicated, to say the least. She liked the man. Strangely. He wasn’t nice. In fact, he was usually quite rude to her. He did not cut her, or any Gryffindor, slack in his class. He was always sticking his hooked nose into her business.

Yet, he seemed to mean well in a lot of it. Neville had officially caused three separate explosions in potions class. So Snape seeming snappish in class was probably warranted. If directions weren’t followed students ended up in the Hospital Wing. He did favor Slytherin, but he wasn’t blatantly taking points away from Gryffindor.

“Wonder what’s wrong with his leg?’ Neville asked as Harri packed up her bag to head to the Hospital Wing before their next class.

“Dunno, but I hope it’s really hurting him,” said Ron bitterly.

* * *

The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Harri, Ron, Hermione, and Neville sat together next to a window. Hermione was checking their Charms homework. She wouldn’t let anyone copy, but by asking her to check they got the answers right anyway.

Harri was due to head down to one of her meetings with Snape. What a way to spend a Friday night, she thought grimly. They were nearly done collecting her memories at least.  Harri was quickly running out of memories of blatant abuse, but Snape was starting to give her prompts to see if anything new came to mind. They wanted to be as thorough as possible, to get a complete record of Harri’s time with the Dursleys.

Harri bid her friends goodbye and wandered down to the Hospital Wing. She peeked inside but didn't’ see anyone. There were no injured students, and the lamps were all low. Madame Pomfrey had a light under her office door, but the door was shut. Snape wasn’t here. Harri checked the time, she herself was already ten minutes late.

She made her way to the staff room and knocked. There was no answer. She knocked again. Nothing. She could hear muffled talking inside, maybe they couldn’t hear her? Perhaps Snape was inside… she pushed the door ajar and peered inside- and a horrible scene met her eyes.

Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages.

“Blasted thing,” Snape was saying. “How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?”

Harri realized this was not a scene that was meant for her eyes. She tried to shut the door quietly, but-

“POTTER!”

Snape’s face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hid his leg. Harri felt her magic frizzle around her. The pure rage in Snape’s voice reminded her viciously of Uncle Vernon… she could see his face clearly. His big beefy neck pulsating with rage, his face gone purple… his fists curled.

She was frozen. Why did she always freeze? She wanted to run, she couldn’t run.

Whatever Snape was saying to her, she couldn’t hear. She was suddenly lost in memories of Uncle Vernon’s rage. Of his purple face twisted in hate, the way he shouted her name, “POTTER!” or “GIRL”.

A hand was on her shoulder. She flinched back at the sudden touch, tripped over the back of her robes, and fell to the ground. She looked up, mentally back at Hogwarts and away from Privet Drive.

Snape didn’t look nearly so angry now. He looked resigned, as he often did around Harri.

“You should have waited in the Hospital Wing,” he said with a hiss.

Harri only nodded, not sure of what to say. He extended a hand and helped her to her feet. He motioned for her to come, and led her back the way she had come. When they reached the Hospital Wing it was now thirty minutes past their appointed meeting time.

With a wave of his wand, light filled the wing. They moved to their usual table in the far corner, and Snape took a seat. Harri hesitated.

“Sir,” she began, “Why haven’t you had Madame Pomfrey heal that? Cerberus bites have corrosive agents in them from the saliva.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed at her. “And how would you know that, Miss. Potter.”

“I read about it at the Library. I like zoology.”

“Let me rephrase then. What do you know about the Cerberus in the school”

“I’d rather not say, sir.” Snape looked up at the ceiling and seemed rather like he was counting to ten.

“Have you been in the same room as the beast, Miss. Potter.”

“Well… um… yes.”

“And it didn’t bite you?” Snape said with clear exasperation in his voice.

“Well no, I know how to make it go to sleep,” Harri replied.

“And I suppose this was also in your library book?’

“Yes.” Harri met Snape’s eyes for a moment and thought about the dog being fast asleep in the third corridor.

“Are you trying to steal whatever the dog is guarding?” Harri asked the question before it was fully formed in her mind.  As always with such a question, she regretted it immediately. Anger could be the only response.

But Snape didn’t look angry, only very wary. “How do you know the dog is guarding something, Potter?”

“I was with Hagrid when he collected a package from Gringotts. I didn’t see what it was. But Gringotts was broken into later that day.”

“Aren’t you quite the detective,” Snape replied with a sneer. He looked very far from happy.

“Miss. Potter, I must implore you to keep this information to yourself. It is not I trying to steal such a thing. But what is being held here at Hogwarts is of the utmost importance. It must not be stolen.”

“Then why were you with the dog?”

“Use your head you silly girl. Why would a troll be in Hogwarts? As a distraction. I saw through  _that_ ,” he spat.

Harri simply stared at her Professor. “You were protecting it.”

“Yes,” Snape hissed.

Harri nodded… still not entirely sure what had occurred Halloween Night.

“I think,” Snape said, “that we will not meet tonight. Back to your common room. I won’t have it said that Slytherin won because I kept the Gryffindor seeker detained till late in the night.”  

The game. Even Snape was thinking about it. Harri felt the nerves that had followed her around for the last two weeks catch up to her again.

“Everyone will hate me if I’m no good,” Harri said glumly; confessing what she had worried about for weeks.

“It is a foolish sport, Miss. Potter. I myself detest flying. Anyone who links one's ability to fly with a person’s character is not worth your time.”

“That was strangely comforting, Professor.”

“God help me if I am giving comfort to a Potter,” Snape replied, a rueful twist to his lips. Harri felt that she had been forgiven her for seeing his leg, and replied with a small smile of her own.

“Goodnight, Professor.”

“Goodnight, Harriet.”

* * *

The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.

“You’ve got to eat some breakfast,”

“I don’t want anything.”

“Just a bit of toast,” wheedled Hermione.

“I’m not hungry.”

Harri felt terrible. In an hour’s time, she’d be walking onto the field.

“Harri, you need your strength,” said Seamus Finnigan. “Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team.”

“Thanks, Seamus,” said Harri, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his sausages.

Lavender and Parvati were sitting nearby, consulting Witch Weekly’s horoscope page. Lavender read Leo aloud. _“_ _You may feel a bit stodgy today, Leo, but things are going to pick up tonight. There will be a great deal of air to fuel your fire, and you're ready to burn! You could be like a desert of dry sagebrush just ready to be set alight. The whole mountainside is about to go up in a beautiful blaze of glory. You're ready to shine like the brilliant star that you are”_

“Looks great then, Harri! The stars will be in your favor. Air to feed your fire. Leo is a fire sign after all” Parvati exclaimed. Harri wasn’t sure if that was what the horoscope had meant.

Hermione just shook her head and muttered about what tosh horoscopes were.

* * *

By eleven o’clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes.

The first year Gryffindors were all sitting together in the top row. As a surprise for Harri, they had painted a large banner on one of the sheets Scabbers had ruined. It said Potter for President, and Dean who was good at drawing, had done a large Gryffindor lion underneath. Lavender and Parvati had managed to paint it to look very like the real Gryffindor crest, and Hermione had enchanted the lion to move and look like it was roaring.

Meanwhile, in the locker room, Harri and the rest of the team were changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes (Slytherin would be playing in green).

Wood cleared his throat for silence.

“Okay men,” he said.

“And women, there are more women than men on the team Oliver,” said Chaser Angelina Johnson.

“And women,” Wood agreed. “This is it.”

“The big one,” said Fred Weasley.

“The one we’ve all be waiting for,” said George.

“We know Oliver’s speech by heart,” Fred told Harri, “we were on the team last year.”

“Shut up, you two,” said Wood. “This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years. We’re going to win. I know it.”

“Two years without Charlie and everyone acts like the team went to the dogs,” George whispered to Harri.

Oliver just glared at them all, as if to say win or else.

“Right. It’s time. Good luck, all of you.”

Harri followed Fred and George out of the locker room and, hoping her knees weren’t going to give way, walked onto the field to loud cheers.

* * *

So far the game hadn’t been going badly. Gryffindor was in the lead, and Harri was managing to dodge the bludgers that were headed her way. It was easy enough to avoid hearing the commentary or think about the stands below. All that mattered was the Snitch.

However, it was as Harri dodged another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past her head, that it happened. Her broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, she thought she was going to fall. She grabbed the broom tightly with both hands and knees. She’d never felt anything like this.

It happened again. It was as though the broom as trying to buck her off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harri tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goal post, she had half a mind to ask Wood to call a time-out, and then she realized that her broom was completely out of her control. She couldn’t turn it. She couldn’t direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated her.

Her broom then began to roll over, with Harri only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harri’s broom had given a wild jerk and Harri swung off it. She was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.

The whole crowds was on its feet, terrified. The Weasleys flew up to try and pull Harri safely onto one of their brooms, but it was no good- every time they got near her, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath her, obviously hoping to catch her if she fell.

Finally, for whatever reason, Harri was suddenly able to take back control. She clambered back on to her broom, and in her relief, she saw a glimmer of gold. Harri dove. She was speeding toward the ground when the crowd saw her clap her hand to her mouth as though she was about to be sick. She hit the field on all fours- coughed- and something gold fell into her hand.

“I’ve got the Snitch!” she shouted, waving it above her head, and the game ended in complete confusion. Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty.

* * *

 “It was Snape,” Ron was explaining. “Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you.”

“But he wouldn’t!” Harri exclaimed. “I like Snape, why would he want to make me fall off my broom.” Then Harri remembered their conversation last night. Harri knew about the three-headed dog. She knew that Snape had tried to get into the corridor.

“Rubbish,” Hagrid was saying to the others. “Why would Snape do somethin’ like that?”

“I found out something about him,” Harri said slowly. The others looked very curious. “I really don’t think he would do anything though. He wouldn’t. He… he was good friends with my mother. He’s told me about her. Why would he try to kill me?”

Because you may know too much, Harri thought. What if it was all a front? Another person pretending to be kind to Harri. Pretending to care about Harri.

“What did you find out?” Hermione asked.

“He had a run in with the Cerberus on Halloween. He said he was stopping someone… whoever let the troll in. It bit him.”

“But what if it was Snape who let the troll in!” Ron exclaimed.

“And Snape was trying to go through the trapdoor!” Neville added. Neville hated Professor Snape with a passion. Snape had taken to hovering over Neville during potions, which only made him more nervous and prone to messing up.

“How do you know about Fluffy?” Hagrid asked, not paying attention to Neville and Ron’s accusations.

“ _Fluffy_?”

“Yeah- he’s mine- bought him off a Greek chappie I met in a pub las’ year- I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the-”

“Yes?” said Harri eagerly.

“Now don’t ask me any more,” said Hagrid gruffly. “That’s top secret, that is.”

“But Snape’s trying to  _steal_ it,” said Ron.

“Rubbish,” said Hagrid again. “Snape’s a Hogwarts teacher, he’d do nothin’ of the sort.”

“So why did he try and kill Harri?” cried Hermione.

“We don’t know he was trying to kill me,” Harri defended.

“He was making eye contact!” Hermione nearly screeched. “I know a jinx when I see one, Harri. I’ve read all about them! You’ve got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn’t blinking at all, I saw him!”

“The fire could have made any number of people stop making eye contact,” Harri shot back.

Hermione glared at her.

“How can you trust someone who may well have tried to murder you today, all because you knew he had tried to get past Fluffy on Halloween?” Neville asked with a frustrated tone.

“I’m tellin’ yeh, yer wrong!” said Hagrid hotly. “I don’ know why Harri’s broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn’t try to kill a student! Now, listen to me, all four of yeh- yer meddlin’ in things that don’ concern yeh. It’s dangerous. You forget that dog, an’ you forget what it’s gaurdin’, that’s between Professor Dumbledore an’ Nicolas Flamel-”

“Nicolas Flamel…” Harri muttered to herself. She was sure that she had heard the name before. “Did… did Dumbledore train with him?”

Hagrid looked furious with himself, and wouldn’t answer Harri’s question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey readers, I'm really excited to announce that I will finish writing this fic today. This is a pretty big deal for me, since I've never finished a chapter fic before. So a note about updates. I really enjoyed how chapters 11 through 13 turned out. On other hand, chapters 14 & 15 used a lot from the book, which I'm not as excited about. They will be posted on the same day. Chapter 16 will be posted on the same day as Chapter One of part 2, 'Memoriae'. Then I plan to take a week off for Christmas and will evaluate Memoriae's posting schedule from there. I've got 18 chapters planned, so I'll see how much I bang out between now and then. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, the kudos, and comments!


	11. Custody

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy skies to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.

Harri and Hermione both agreed that owl mail was ridiculous. Muggles had certainly figured out the better solution.

No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all was Professor Snape’s classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons.

“I do feel so sorry,” said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, “for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they’re not wanted at home.”

“Five points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape had sneered, before commenting that Hermione’s potion had turned the correct shade of purple. Harri felt more certain than ever that Snape had not tried to kill her.

Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. Disgusted that the Slytherins had lost, he had tried to get everyone laughing at how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing Harri as Seeker next. Then he’d realized that nobody found this funny, because they were all so impressed at the way Harri had managed to stay on her bucking broomstick. So Malfoy, jealous and angry, had gone back to taunting Harri about having no proper family and both Harri and Hermione for being Muggle-raised.

“The traditions around wizarding Yule are incredibly intricate and important. I can’t imagine settling for a plain muggle _Christmas_ after taking part in my families ritual,” he had said loudly as he passed them in the corridor the week before.

Hermione, of course, had researched everything she could about wizarding Yule, but hadn’t found much.

“Well you wouldn’t,” explained Neville when Hermione vented her frustration one night in the common room. “It would only be in the family grimoire. And we don’t share those. It’s rare to even take them out of your Gringotts Vault.”

“There weren’t any books in my vault!” Harri had exclaimed.

Neville’s eye twitched. “They wouldn’t be in your trust vault Harri,” Neville said slowly.

“My what?” Harri had asked.

She wasn’t imagining it, Neville’s eye actually twitched. “Your trust vault. They wouldn’t let you have access to all your families magical items before you’re of age. That would be dangerous. So when a witch or wizards parents die or are… incapable of caring for them,” and here Neville seemed to be struggling to explain, “the goblins take about five percent of the gold and put it in a trust vault. Some arrangments are different if your parents specifically set something up.”

Harri realized that Neville was raised by his Gran. Not his parents. And she had never asked.

“Neville… are your parents dead too?” she asked.

Neville shook his head, he looked rather like he wanted to cry. “No. They’re in St. Mungo's. This is the longest I’ve gone not seeing them. But Gran promised we’d go at Christmas.”

“What happened to them?” Hermione asked gently.

“They… they were in the war. Something happened to them. Gran won’t tell me much about it. But I think… I think they were tortured. They’re mentally not okay. They don’t… they don’t know who I am. My mum, she gives me gum wrappers. She does every time we visit. But what if she doesn’t this time? What if she’s forgotten that we do that? It’s been months!”

Neville was crying.

Surprisingly it was Ron who spoke first. “I’m sorry, mate.” And Ron hugged Neville. Hermione and Harri quickly followed.

“Get a room,” Fred shouted from across the common room.

“First years are always so soppy!” Added George.

“Shut up!” Ron called, ears pink.

* * *

Harri was quite relieved that she wasn’t going anywhere near the Dursley’s for Christmas. Professor McGonagall had come around the week before, making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays, and Harri had signed up at once. She didn’t feel sorry for herself at all; this would probably be the best Christmas she’d ever had. Ron and his brothers were staying too, because Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to Romania to visit Charlie.

Professor Snape had even informed her that she would be going to the Ministry for her custody review over the break.

“Will I be a ward of the school then? Or will I get emancipated?” she had asked him.  

Snape looked rather pained. “No. The Headmaster is unable to take on wards of the school. And no governing body would emancipate a young witch without full training. Who knows what you would get up to over the summers,” Snape glared at her as if he thought she would run around Muggle London turning people into toads.

“Then who would be my guardian?” she asked.

“I am sure people will come forward. The court usually takes the wishes of the child very seriously. Since you are… Harriet Potter, the number of petitions that would come in for you would be quite extraordinary. If you have a preferred family it would be best to make that known now. To keep the petition process closed.”

Harri bit her lip. In a way, she wanted to ask the grumpy professor if he would be her guardian. She didn’t always like Snape. Sometimes he reminded her of Vernon Dursley when he reacted in anger. Yet, he also understood her. He didn’t look at her with pity very often. He didn’t treat her any differently from the other students in class. There were no soft touches on the shoulder like with Professor McGonagall, which always made Harri jump.

He might have tried to kill her though. Hermione, Ron, and Neville still seemed convinced.

But he had loved her mother. Harri knew that with certainty. Professor Snape talked about her mother with adoration and sadness. He had even once, in a quiet voice, said that sometimes she looked like her mother.

Severus Snape had loved Lily Evans. Harri felt certain that he would not insult her mother’s memory by trying to murder her daughter.

So she asked.

“Would you?”

“Would I what, Potter?” Snape asked.

“Would you apply. To be my guardian. You were friends with my mother. Surely she would want someone who was her friend. Not a stranger.”

There was that pained look again. He got it a lot around Harri.

“We can discuss this later,” Snape had said, ushering her out of the classroom into the corridor where Hermione was waiting for her.

Harri and Hermione left the dungeons, catching up with Ron and Neville who had convened at the warmer top of the stairs. The corridor ahead was blocked by a large fir tree. Two enormous feet were sticking out at the bottom and a large puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it.

“Hi, Hagrid, want any help?” Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches.

“Nah, I’m all right, thanks, Ron.”

“Would you mind moving out of the way?” came Malfoy’s cold drawl from behind them. “Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose- that hut of Hagrid’s must seem like a palace compared to what your family’s used to.”

Ron dived at Malfoy just as Snape came up the stairs.

“WEASLEY!”

Ron let go of the front of Malfoy’s robes.

“He was provoked, Professor Snape,” said Hagrid, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the tree. “Malfoy was insultin’ his family.”

“Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid,” said Snape silkily. “Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn’t more. Malfoy, control yourself. We have discussed comporting yourself in a more Slytherin like manner. Move along, all of you.”

Malfoy’s cheeks went pink, and he and Crabbe and Goyle pushed past the tree, scattering needles everywhere.

“I’ll get him,” said Ron grinding his teeth at Malfoy’s back, “one of these days, I’ll get him-”

“Get in line,” Hermione hissed, still glaring at Malfoy’s back.  

“Come on, cheer up, it’s nearly Christmas,” said Hagrid. “Tell yeh what, come with me an’ see the Great Hall, looks a treat.”

So the tree of them followed Hagrid and his tree off to the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with the Christmas decorations.

“Ah, Hagrid, the last tree- put it in the far corner would you?”

The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood all around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.

“How many days you got left until yer holidays?” Hagrid asked.

“Just one,” said Hermione. “And that reminds me- Harri, Ron, Neville, we’ve got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library.”

“Oh yeah you’re right,” said Ron, tearing his eyes away from Professor Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming out of his wand and was trailing them over the branches of the new tree.

“The library?” said Hagrid, following them out of the hall. “Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren’t yeh?”

“Oh we’re not working,” Neville told him brightly. “Ever since you mentioned Nicholas Flamel we’ve been trying to find out who he is.”

“I’m fairly certain he and Dumbledore worked together,” Harri added. “Which makes sense why he would be hiding whatever he’s hiding here at Hogwarts.”

“You _what_?” Hagrid looked shocked. “List here- I’ve told yeh- drop it. It’s nothin’ to you what that dog’s gaurdin’.”

“We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that’s all,” said Hermione.

“Unless you’d like to tell us and save us the trouble?” Harri added.

“We’ve been through hundreds of books,” Neville said looked at Hagrid a little desperately. Neville was glad to be going home for Yule if only to get away from Hermione’s library mania.

“I’m sayin’ nothin’,” said Hagrid flatly.

“Just have to find out for ourselves then,” said Ron, and they left Hagrid looking disgruntled and hurried off to the library.

They had indeed been searching books for Flamel’s name ever since Hagrid had let it slip, because how else were they going to find out what someone- “Snape!,” Ron insisted with a nodding Neville- was trying to steal. The trouble was, it was very hard to know where to begin, not knowing what Flamel might have done to get himself into a book. He wasn’t in _Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century_ or _Notable Magical Names of Our Time_ ; he was missing too from _Important Modern Magical Discoveries_ and _A study of Recent Developments in Wizardry_.

Also sparse was any information about who Dumbledore had trained with and under. While the Professor was featured in many books, Harri couldn’t find anything about his early days and who he had trained with. It was rather like Dumbledore had suddenly appeared in 1945 to defeat Grindelwald and then faded into politics. Nothing on his research was readily available at all.

Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles she had decided to search while Ron strode off down a row of books and started pulling them off the shelves at random. Neville was methodically taking books on Herbology off the shelf to study. Harri was beginning to suspect that he was just reading for pleasure to avoid looking at more boring histories. Harri wandered over to the Restricted Section. She had been wondering for a while if Flamel wasn’t somewhere in there.

“What are you looking for, girl?”

“Nothing,” said Harri.

Madam Pince the librarian brandished a feather duster at her. “You’d better get out, then. Go on- out!”

Wishing she had been a bit quicker at thinking up some story, Harri left the library. The group had agreed they’d better not ask Madam Pince where they could find Flamel. They were sure she’d be able to tell them, but they couldn’t risk someone hearing what they were up to.

Harri waited outside in the corridor to see if the other three had found anything, but she wasn’t very hopeful. They had been looking for two weeks, after all, but as they only had odd moments between lessons it wasn’t surprising they’d found nothing. What they really needed was a nice long search without Madam Pince breathing down their necks. Or a good catalog system like the Muggles had, Harri thought with longing. The only good part of Little Whinging had bee the library after all.

Five minutes later, Ron, Neville, and Hermione joined her, shaking their heads. They went off to lunch.

“You will keep looking while we’re away, won’t you?” said Hermione. “And send me an owl if you find anything.”

“And ask your parents if they know who Flamel is,” said Ron. “It’d be safe to ask them.”

“Very safe, as they’re both dentists,” said Hermione with a laugh. Neither Ron or Nevill knew what a dentist was, but Harri laughed.

* * *

Once the holidays had started, Ron and Harri were having too good a time to think much about Flamel. They both had their dormitories to themselves and the common room was far emptier than usual, so they were able to get the good armchairs by the fire. They sat by the hour eating anything they could spear on a roasting fork- bread, English muffins, marshmallows- and plotting ways of getting Malfoy expelled (for Hermione of course), which was fun to talk about even if they wouldn’t work.

Harri also learned that Ron knew who his soulmate was, despite his silver covering.

“Her name is Luna,” Ron confessed. “She lives in Ottery St. Catchpole, where my family is from. Bit of an odd bird honestly. Known her for ages.”

“How did you know that she had said your words,” Harri asked, surprised.

“Well Pureblood families catalog these things. There is a spell that you cast on your kid so that a quill will write down the first words anyone says to them. My mum keeps them all out of the way in a shed. But every time one of us gets our wand bonded, she goes and grabs it and tells us to look through and see if we find our match.”

“So you know for sure that it’s Luna!” Harri exclaimed.

“Well, not for sure yet. She’s a year behind us, and she’ll get her wand bonded and will check to be sure. But probably. Not many people tell you that you have Wrackspurts floating around your head.”

“Do you like her?” Harri asked.

“I don’t know,” Ron replied. “You girls, you don’t make any sense to me at all. And Luna makes the least amount of sense of any girl I’ve ever met.”

“I guess we are a little young for all that,” Harri said with a laugh.

“Yeah, we are. There isn't any pressure till after Hogwarts anyways. Most families agree that kids shouldn’t put too much stock in it until they’re older. Plus, those Slytherin families ignore them half the time and just arrange marriages for their kids.”

“So Malfoy wouldn’t be allowed to date Hermione even if he wanted to,” Harri realized sadly. “Hermione doesn’t have a choice even if he is a prat?”

“Probably not. Probably why he was so put out on the train. No one _wants_ an arranged marriage when they have a perfectly good soulmate running around. Magic divined match and all that.”

“But you and Luna won’t have that problem?” Harri asked.

“Nah, Mum and Dad don’t care. And her father is a loon, he won’t care either. I’ll probably get her a gold covering forever from now once we know each other better. But until then, Mum just wants us to try and be friends.”

“That actually sounds nice Ron,” Harri told him. “I wish…” and she trailed off. She didn’t want to tell Ron what she wished. That her soulmark was normal. That magic hadn’t… done what it had done to her. It was terribly unfair. It was nice to know that it didn’t seem unfair for Ron though.

Ron’s ears went pink as he looked in the fire. “I probably shouldn’t have said all that Harri. It’s a bit inappropriate.”

“No, I appreciate it, Ron. I’d never learned these things if you and Neville weren’t catching us up. Hey! Does that mean Neville knows who his soulmate is too??” Harri asked. This quill thing sounded so useful.

“Well, yeah. Did you notice how he Hannah hang out sometimes? Hannah Abbot from Hufflepuff?” Harri hadn’t noticed and felt like a poor excuse for a friend.

“He never said anything!”

“Of course he didn’t!” Ron's ears were red now, a good indication that it was time to change the subject.

“Teach me about Wizard Chess then Ron,” Harri said with a smile and ran up to her dormitory to get the chessmen that Seamus had lent her.

* * *

On December 23rd Harri met Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall in the Entrance Hall at promptly eight. They were going to the Ministry of Magic for Harri’s case review. Both Professor's looked grim. They led Harri to a fireplace where they would be ‘flooing’ to the Ministry. McGonagall went first, showing Harri how she threw the powder into the grate, the fire turned green, and witch stepped in. Harri was nearly amazed enough about that, but then McGonagall called out, “The Ministry of Magic,” and she was away.

Harri replicated her with some trepidation and was treated to an uncomfortable sensation of whizzing up a chimney. She was spat out of a large fireplace, and she stumbled to the ground in front of her stern Professor. The woman didn’t look ruffled at all. She helped Harri up and spelled the soot off.  

Snape arrived, also looked perfectly composed. He looked as bat-like as ever. They were in a large atrium with a fountain in the middle. Witches and Wizards were coming and going very quickly, and pieces of paper were flying around faster than Harri could keep up with.

The Professors led Harri to an elevator, and they got on along with two witches in purple robes that were complaining about faulty cauldron bottoms and potions accidents. Harri could tell Snape was listening in and had to suppress a giggle when he absentmindedly nodded in agreement to one of the witches comments about improved regulation.

They got off the elevator at the second level, Department of Magical Law Enformcnemt. They came into a long corridor with several doors on each side. At the end of the hall were two large oak doors. But they didn’t go through the big doors. Instead, they turned in on the third door to the left in the corridor and knocked.

“ENTER,” a voice called. Inside was a portly man with thick glasses sitting at a very cluttered desk.

“Ah yes,” he said when he saw them. “Good, Good. Hello, Miss. Potter,” and here he stared pointedly at her forehead. “I am Jeffery Williamson. I am your caseworker in all this.” He extended his hand, and Harri took it. He then vigorously pumped her arm up and down.  “Nasty business, I am so sorry. But having reviewed your file from Professor Dumbledore it should be rather straightforward.”

“Er… well, that’s very good to hear sir,” Harri replied uncertainly.

“Yes yes, well all of you come in and sit down,” he motioned to Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall. “My dear Minerva, how good to see you again. Not since Elphinstone’s passing, I think,”  

Professor McGonagall’s thin lips got thinner. “No, I think not Jeffery. In any case, to the matter at hand.”

“Yes, yes always business with you Minerva,” and he winked! Harri was sure that Professor McGonagall’s lips would disappear. “Now, I take it you are representing that school as in lieu magical guardian for Miss. Potter. And Severus here is acting the part of the applicant?”

“That is correct,” Professor Snape answered silkily.

“Perfect, perfect. Now the committee has already reviewed your memories, Miss. Potter and voted unanimously that you must be removed from the custody of your relatives. That part of the process has already been pushed through. Special Case and all that. None of us can believe that this happened to YOU of all people.”

Her of all people. It made her stomach do knots. The wizarding world always seemed to expect a certain image of her. Certainly, not one who had dealt with the Dursleys for ten years  

If Jeffery Williamson was expecting an answer, he hadn’t paused long enough to get one. “Well, really the only thing we have to confirm today, Miss. Potter, is if you are serious about having Severus Snape as your guardian. It’s a bit of an unexpected choice. With your colorful past, Professor.” Snape’s sneer intensified.

“Professor Snape was a good friend of my mother’s,” Harri replied softly.

“Yes indeed. Forth in line for custody too. Your parent’s will doesn’t give us any viable options before Severus either. What with Sirius Black being listed as your godfather and that werewolf being listed as the second option. And the third, well the Longbottoms are in no fit state.”

Sirius Black? A werewolf? The Longbottoms!?

Snape looked surprised. “Lily listed me in her will?” he asked.

“Yes, yes. That’s why this can go so simply. Makes it easier for all of us in the Department too. Can you imagine, having to accept custody applications for the Girl-Who-Lived!? Every family in Britain would want to apply.”

Professor McGonagall took Harri’s hand, and she looked down, surprised. Oh, it was transparent. She hadn’t noticed her magic doing anything at all. It was overwhelming to think of being ‘The-Girl-Who-Lived’. Of all of wizarding Britain thinking of her. Well, these thoughts weren’t helping. Harri took a couple of deep meditative breaths.

When she looked back up, Williamson was looking at her with unguarded pity. It took all of her fragile control and concentration to not go invisible right there.

“Well, all looks in order here. You’ll just need to sign here Minerva, relinquishing the school as Harriet Potter’s magical guardian. And then you’ll sign here Severus, taking on full guardianship both physical and magical for her.”

They signed, and it was done.

Harri was certain that Ron, Hermione, and Neville would be aghast that she had allowed Severus Snape to become her guardian.  Especially since they were certain he was trying to kill her.

Harri was just pleased though. Legally, she could never return to the Dursleys. Snape was even in her parent's will. Maybe not their first choice, but he was there! Everything was really looking up.

 


	12. The Mirror of Erised

On Christmas Eve, Harri went to bed looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents at all. When she woke early in the morning, however, the first thing she saw was a small pile of packages at the foot of her bed.

“Merry Christmas,” she said to herself as she scrambled out of bed and pulled on her bathrobe. She excitedly grabbed all her gifts, stuffed them in her bag, and rushed down the stairs of the girl's tower, and then up the stairs to the boys. She burst into Ron’s dorm room, who was not awake yet.

“Blimey,” he said, as he pulled his covers around himself.

“It’s Christmas! I have presents!” Harri exclaimed, throwing her bag onto the bed next to Ron’s.

“What did you expect, turnips?” asked Ron, pulling on his own bathrobe and turning to his own pile of gifts. Harri was surprised to see that she had nearly as many gifts as Ron.

Harri picked up the top parcel. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was To Harri, from Hagrid. Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. Harri blew it- it sounded a bit like an owl!

“Oh, how exciting! I’ve never learned a wind instrument before!” Harri exclaimed. She thought guiltily of the guitar that she had been neglecting the last couple weeks. Well, she had time now, she could practice.

A second parcel was wrapped in a silvery paper. The note attached said ‘To Harri, a picture of the past- Moony'.

It was a framed picture. There was a woman with deep auburn red hair in a flowing white dress. A bespectacled man with scruffy dark hair in a tuxedo. Three other men around them. All smiling.

It was a picture of her parent’s wedding day. She had never seen anything so wonderful before.

A water droplet hit the glass. Harri had never seen a picture of her parents before. They looked so happy, so alive. In the picture, the couple leaned in to kiss each other as the three men jeered. These must be the three uncles that Lupin had talked about. She wondered which one was Lupin? One was probably a man named Sirius Black. Her godfather. What had happened to these men? What had Snape said, that Lupin was the only one unscathed by the war. He would know who they were and what had happened to them. She would ask.

Setting the picture aside, Harri returned to her gifts.

A book wrapped in brown paper was from Professor Snape. That was strange. She didn’t think of Snape as the gift giving type. The note inside read- ‘It is customary for guardians to give their charges something for Yule. This should be sufficient.’ Well wasn’t that… warm.

The book didn’t look particularly exciting at first. It was a third edition of the Standard Book of Spells Grade 1. Three editions out of date. Inside the front cover was the name Lily Evans. It was her mother’s old charms textbook. Harri gently thumbed through and saw writing in all the margins. Little comments about spell technique. Pronunciation experimentation. Even a couple of small spells written in the margins, ones that Harri hadn’t heard of yet. Had her mother invented spells? As a first year?

Another question for Snape then!

Harri next picked up a lumpy parcel. She had no idea who it could be from.

“I think I know,” said Ron, turning a bit pink. “My mum. I told her you didn’t expect any presents and- oh no,” he groaned, “she’s made you a Weasley sweater.”

Harri had torn open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge.

“Every year she makes us a sweater,” said Ron, unwrapping his own, “and mine’s always maroon.”

“Oh Ron,” she sighed. “It’s beautiful. Your mother makes one for all of you every year?” That sounded so motherly. So nice. Would her mother have made sweaters or homemade fudge? Harri tried to picture growing up with so much familial warmth.

“This is really so nice of her,” said Harri, trying the fudge, which was delicious.

Her next present was a set of books, The Lord of the Rings series from Hermione. Harri had commented that she had wished she owned the series! Leave it to Hermione to be a good listener. Harri had also given Hermione a book from the Flourish and Blotts catalog. _Careers and Apprenticeships: Advice for Young Witches and Wizards._

This only left one parcel. Harri picked it up and felt it. It was very light. She unwrapped it.

Something fluid and silver gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds. Ron gasped.

“I’ve heard of those,” he said in a hushed voice, dropping the box of Chocolate Frogs he’d gotten from Hermione. “If that’s what I think it is- they’re really rare and really valuable.”

Harri picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material.

“It’s an invisibility cloak,” said Ron, a look of awe on his face. “I’m sure it is- try it on.”

Harri draped the cloak around her shoulders and Ron gave a yell. “It is! Look down!” Harri looked down at her feet, but they were gone. She dashed to the mirror. Sure enough, her reflection looked back at her, just her head suspended in midair, her body completely invisible. She pulled the cloak over her head and her reflection vanished completely.

“There’s a note!” said Ron suddenly. “A note fell out of it!”

Harri pulled off the cloak and seized the letter. Written in narrow, loopy writing she had never seen before were the following words:

_Your father left this in my possession before he died. While you need little help in turning invisible, it is time it was returned to you. Use it well._

_A Very Merry Christmas to you_

There was no signature. Harri stared at the note. Whoever it was had known that she had an invisibility problem of her own. That certainly limited who it could be. It certainly couldn’t be on the students. Her father had known them. One of the Professors maybe?

Or did someone at the Ministry who had handled her case send it to her. Someone who knew about her… abuse. That alone made her want to turn invisible on her own.

“I’d give anything for one of these,” Ron was saying. “What’s the matter?” he asked Harri.

“Nothing,” said Harri. She felt very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Was the entire wizarding world gossiping about Harri’s abuse from the Dursleys? Did everyone know? It was horrifying.

Before she could say or think anything else, the dormitory door was flung open and Fred and George Weasley bounded in. Harri stuffed the cloak quickly out of sight. She didn’t feel like sharing it with anyone else yet.

“Merry Christmas!”

“Hey, look- Harri’s got a Weasley sweater too!”

Fred and George were wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F on it, the other a G.

“Harri’s is better than ours, though,” said Fred, holding up Harri’s sweater. “She obviously makes more of an effort if you’re not family.”

“Why aren’t you wearing yours, Ron?” George demanded. “Come on, get it on, they’re lovely and warm.”

“I hate maroon,” Ron moaned halfheartedly as he pulled it over his head.

“You haven’t got a letter on yours,” George observed. “I suppose she thinks you don’t forget your name. But we’re not stupid- we know we’re called Gred and Forge.”

“What’s all this noise? Harriet, girls aren’t allowed in the boy's dorm”

Percy Weasley stuck his head through the door, looking disapproving. He had clearly gotten halfway through unwrapping his presents as he, too, carried a lumpy sweater over his arm which Fred seized.

“P for prefect! Get it on, Percey, come on, we’re all wearing ours, even Harri got one!”

“Who shouldn’t be in here!” Percy insisted. “And I- don’t-want-” Percy said thickly, as the twins forced the sweater over his head, knocking his glasses askew.

“And you’re not sitting with the prefects today, either,” said George. “Christmas is a time for family”

They frog-marched Percy from the room, his arms pinned to his side by his sweater.

* * *

 Harri had never in all her life had such a Christmas dinner. More food than she knew what to do with, and the most magical Christmas crackers she had ever experienced. She pulled one with Fred that went off like a cannon, and a rear admiral’s hat and several live white mice came out. Up at the High Table, Dumbledore now sported a flowered bonnet and was laughing merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him.

She even got a wizard chess set out of a cracker she pulled with Ron! She could safely return Seamus’ set, who always gave her bad advice.

Ron, full of turkey and cake and with nothing mysterious to bother him, went up to his dorm as soon as they returned from the feast. Harri wandered up to her own empty room and looked at her pile of gifts. More from her parents in a single day than she had gotten in her entire lifetime. A picture of them both, her mother’s charms textbook, and her father’s cloak. What would it be like if they were still alive? If her awful soulmate hadn’t murdered them.

Would Lily Potter have knitted Harri a Christmas sweater? Would Harri have siblings at home, siblings she would be visiting for Christmas instead of staying at Hogwarts for the holiday? Would those three smiling men be her close Uncles? Would Professor Snape visit for Christmas dinner, pulling a cracker with her mother?

Well no, the last part was probably far fetched. Professor Snape would find it far too painful to see Lily’s glowing happy life without him. His unanswered soulmate, happy with another man.

Harri looked at the cloak. It should still be her fathers. It was a crime for her to have it. It felt like blood money, slipping like water through her hands.

 _Use it well_ the note had said.

She had to try it, now. She slipped out of bed and wrapped the cloak around herself. Looking down at her legs, she saw only moonlight and shadows. It was a very funny feeling. Having only disappeared completely once, she was used to seeing the transparent outline of her body.

 _Use it well_.

Suddenly, Harri felt wide-awake. The whole of Hogwarts was open to her in this cloak. Excitement flooded through her as she stood there in the dark and silence. She could go anywhere in this, anywhere, and Filch would never know.

She crept out of the dormitory, down the stairs, across the common room, and climbed through the portrait hole.

“Who’s there?” squawked the Fat Lady. Harri said nothing. She walked quickly down the corridor.

Where should she go? She stopped, her heart racing, and thought. And then it came to her. The Restricted Section in the library. She’d be able to read as long as she liked, as long as it took to find out who Flamel was. She set off, drawing the invisibility cloak tight around her as she walked.

The library was pitch-black and very eerie. Harri lit a lamp to see her way along the rows of books. The lamp looked as if it was floating along in midair, and even though Harri could feel her arm supporting it, the sight gave her the creeps.

The Restricted Section was right at the back of the library. Stepping carefully over the rope that separated these books fro the rest of the library, she held up her lamp to read the titles.

They didn’t tell her much. Their peeling, faded gold letters spelled words in languages Harri couldn’t understand. Some had no title at all. One book had a stain on it that looked horribly like blood. The hairs on the back of Harri’s neck prickled. Maybe she was imagining it, maybe not, but she thought a fain whispering was coming from the books, as though they knew someone was there who shouldn’t be.

Harri could tell they were dark books. Her magic was excited by being so nervous, and she felt it rush around her. Touch each book. They felt wrong and oozing. Harri wondered if that was what _he_ felt like. She would rather not touch any of these books. But she was here, and had to start somewhere. Setting the lamp down carefully on the floor, she found a large black and silver volume. It seemed to whisper to Harri, like an old friend. It’s magic reached out for her, caressing her own in a tender sort of way.

 _Magick Moste Evile_ , the tile read. At first, she didn’t notice. Why did this book seem so familiar? But then the title did register, and she threw it away from her with a thump. It opened on the floor and let out one high, unbroken earsplitting shriek. She stumbled backward and knocked over her lamp. It went out at once.

Panicking, she heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside- stuffing the shrieking book back on the shelf, she ran for it. She passed Filch in the doorway; Filch’s pale wild eyes looked straight through her, and Harri slipped under Filch’s outstretched arm and streaked off up the corridor, the book’s shrieks still ringing in her ears.

She came to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armor. She had been so busy getting away from the library, she hadn’t paid attention to where she was going. Perhaps because it was dark, but she didn’t recognize where she was at all. There was a suit of armor near the kitchens, she knew, but she must be five floors above there.

“You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody’s been in the library- Restricted Section.”

Harri felt the blood drain out of her face. Wherever she was, Filch must know a shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice was getting nearer, and to her horror, it was Snape who replied, “The Restricted Section? Well, they can’t be far, we’ll catch them.”

Oh, he couldn’t find her. What would he do? Horrible thoughts ran through her mind, of taking her mother’s charms book or making her clean cauldrons for the entire summer. Or worst of all, giving her back to the Dursleys. No, he wouldn’t do that. She knew he wouldn’t. This was an irrational thought.

The thought still wouldn’t leave her.

She stood rooted to the spot as Filch and Snape came around the corner ahead. They couldn’t see her, of course, but it was a narrow corridor and if they cam much nearer they’d knock right into her- the cloak didn’t stop her from being solid.

She backed away as quietly as she could. A door stood ajar to her left. It was her only hope. She squeezed through it, holding her breath, trying not to move it, and to her relief, she managed to get inside the room without their noticing anything. They walked straight past, and Harri leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, listening to their footsteps dying away. That had been close, very close. It was a few seconds before she noticed anything about the room she had hidden in.

It looked like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket- but propped against the wall facing her was something that didn’t look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way.

It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on woshi._

Was this a magic mirror?

She thought through every book she had ever read that dealt with such things. All of them were muggle examples of course, but it seemed like she had stumbled upon the genuine article. She shouldn’t look in, should she? What if something horrible happened?

What did it do?

She stared at the inscription. That wasn’t latin. Mirrors… mirrors… MIRRORED.

 _I show not your face but your heart's Desire_.

Her heart’s desire? Well… she was fairly certain what she would see. She stepped in front of the mirror and wasn’t wrong in the slightest.

There standing before her was the scene she had pictured earlier. Her parents, the three cheerful men from the picture, two young children that must be her brother and sister. In walked Professor Snape, laughing and hugging her mother, and he looked ten years younger.

And there was Harri herself. Confident, no scar on her forehead. Loved completely by her family. The Harri in the mirror turned to look at her and removed the silver covering on her wrist. The words did not read ‘ Avada Kedavra ’ but, ‘I’m sorry about my dad. Dementors really shouldn’t count as winning’.

Harri’s reflection winked at her, before putting the covering back on, and going back to her family. It was the happiest scene in the entire world, and Harri stared at it hungrily.

Her mother’s dark red hair glowed in the firelight, just like Harri’s. Her eyes were a brilliant shade of emerald green. The tall, thin, black-haired man that was Harri’s father wore glasses just like Harri did. His eyes were the same shade of hazel.

She was so close to the mirror now that her nose was nearly touching the reflected scene.

“Mum.” she whispered. “Dad.”

They looked up from their Christmas table, smiling. Hard angry sobs suddenly wracked her body. It wasn’t real. It could never be real. The invisibility cloak fell from her shoulders and she crouched on the ground crying. Her magic was swirling around her, she felt it embrace her, and then lash outwards. It was the most horrible thing in the world, this mirror. It should break, be destroyed, crumble into dust for showing her a world that could never be.

Harri felt a hand on her shoulder.

She looked up, almost hoping to see her mother. But it was Professor Snape. He must have heard her crying and come back.

“You shouldn't be here, Harriet,” he said.

“Why isn’t it real?” Harri sobbed. “Why can’t they be here?”

Snape kneeled down and embraced her. It seemed the most natural thing in the world. “I know,” he said, his voice thick. “It shouldn’t have been this way, Harri, I know. You should never have lost your parents. I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t sound like he was apologizing because her parents were dead. It sounded like guilt. But she couldn’t bring herself to ask. Snape helped her up, and wouldn’t let her look back at the mirror.

“That blasted thing, what was Dumbledore thinking letting it be here?”

“I know it doesn’t tell the truth,” Harri said with a sniffle. “It’s your heart’s desire.”

“Yes,” Snape said eerily. “And don’t you think that is a dangerous thing to show anyone? Men have wasted away in front of this mirror.”

He was pulling her from the room, her cloak was clutched in her hands. “What do you see, Professor,” Harri asked with a hiccup.

“Your mother,” he said shortly. What he didn’t tell her was that the mirror now featured a young girl with auburn hair, who looked at him with love and joy. A girl who was never touched by abuse or the horrors of Voldemort.

“That mirror will be moved, Harriet. Don’t come looking for it again. Put that cloak back on, and get to bed. And if I hear that you’ve been in the Restricted Section again you will have detention for a week along with those twenty points from Gryffindor,” Snape said sharply.

“Twenty points?!” Harri asked in shock.

“Did I not say that yet?” asked Snape icily. “Twenty points from Gryffindor. Back to bed. Now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I really got some great comments last time! Thank you :) I'm glad so many of you are enjoying the story. Mentor!Snape has surprised us all (me included).


	13. Nicolas Flamel

Harri didn’t say anything to Ron the next day about the mirror. The entire event seemed surreal to Harri by morning, and she didn’t want to revisit it with Ron. Not to mention that her adventure ending with Snape hugging her would leave Ron devastated in horror.

Instead, the two spent the remainder of their Christmas Holiday eating good food by the fire, playing wizard chess, and generally taking part in good Christmas cheer. They had more than a few snowball fights with the Twins, and Percy even joined in one.

The only downside to her holiday were the nightmares. Over and over again she dreamed about her parents disappearing in a flash of green light, while a high voice cackled with laughter.

She went so far as to write Remus Lupin, or Moony as he appeared to want to be called, about them. She included the entire mirror story, and even the bit about Snape and how he was her new guardian. While he seemed surprised, Moony confirmed that Lily had always loved Severus Snape. ' _Thick as thieves their first six years at Hogwarts'_ , he had written. On the mirror, he seemed to share her mourning. The only advice he had was to ' _do your best to think about how your parents would want you to live in the now. I promise, they wouldn’t want you mourning them. They would want you to be happy and to find family where you can'._

Hermione came back the day before term started, and was disappointed that they hadn’t found out who Nicolas Flamel was. Harri and Ron had taken a rather lax view of research over Christmas break. Neville, on the other hand, was relieved that their fervor was fading. Harri was certain that she had heard the name somewhere in conjunction with Dumbledore, but she wasn’t sure where.

Once term had started, they were back to skimming through books for ten minutes during their breaks. Harri had even less time than the other three because Quidditch practice had started again.

Wood was working the team harder than ever. Even the endless rain that had replaced the snow couldn’t dampen his spirits. The Weasleys complained that Wood was becoming a fanatic, but Harri was on Wood’s side. If they won their next match, against Hufflepuff, they would overtake Slytherin in the house championship for the first time in seven years. Quite apart from wanting to win, Harri found that she had fewer nightmares when she was tired out from training.

Her dormmates had noticed the nightmares. Lavender and Parvati had been more than understanding when Harri explained to her three dormmates that she had received a picture of her parents for Christmas. Since then she kept seeing them disappear in a flash of green. The girls had all looked horrified, and Lavender and Parvati had taken to making Harri a nice calming tea before bed. And more than once, while waking covered in sweat and shaking, Harri would find Hermione crawling into bed with her. With Hermione there the nighmares usually were kept at bay.

One particularly wet and muddy practice session, Wood gave the team a bit of news. He’d just gotten very angry with the Weasleys, who kept dive-bombing each other and pretending to fall off their brooms.

“Will yous top messing around!” he yelled. “That’s exactly the sort of thing that’ll lose us the match! Snape’s refereeing this time, and he’ll be looking for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor!”

George Weasley really did fall off his broom at these words. “ _Snape’s_ refereeing?” he spluttered through a mouthful of mud. “When’s he ever refereed a Quidditch match? He’s not going to be fair if we might overtake Slytherin.”

“But he hates to fly,” commented Harri as the rest of the team landed next to George to complain too.

“How do you know that?” Wood asked in surprise.

“He’s told me. We were talking about my father, they knew each other in school,” Harri replied, trying to keep her memory sessions private.

“Well, I have no idea then!” said Wood, flinging his hands up in the air. “But it’s not my fault. We’ve just got to make sure we play a clean game, so Snape hasn’t got an excuse to pick on us.”

Which was all very well, thought Harri, but she had another reason for not wanting Snape near her while she was playing Quidditch… Ron, Hermione, and Neville would be freshly fanatic about Snape trying to kill her. She still hadn’t let them know that Snape was her guardian, and that he had no real reason to kill Harri. She wasn’t sure when she could let them know without it being a horribly awkward experience. Could she keep it a secret forever?

The rest of the team hung back to talk to one another as usual after the end of practice, but Harri headed straight back to the Gryffindor common room, where she found Ron playing chess with Seamus.

“Don’t talk to me for a moment, I need to concen-” He caught sight of Harri’s nervous face. “What’s the matter with you? You look terrible.”

“I need to tell you all something. Do you know where Hermione and Neville are?”

“Down in the library looking for more about you-know-who,” said Ron.

“Well, I’ll wait till they get back.” Ron nodded and turned back to his game. Harri was a good spectator and even tried to help Seamus. Ron was very good at chess, and it took two against him to make a fair fight.

About half an hour later, Neville and Hermione appeared. Hermione looked like she had been crying, and Neville was hobbling a little like he’d sprained his ankle.

“What happened?” Harri asked, worried.

“Malfoy,” Neville said grimly. That was about all the explanation they needed, and the four hurried off into a corner so they could talk privately.

“It was more of the same really,” Hermione said with a sniff. “Then he called me… well, you know… dirty blooded again. And Neville,” and Hermione looked at Neville with real admiration, “Neville took a swing at him.”

“Of course, Malfoy cursed me with the leg-locker curse before I could hit him. And I fell,” Neville said with a game grin. “But he looked really worried about me hitting that face of his. Crabbe and Goyle weren’t around. And Hermione cast the counter curse right away, and looked about ready to duel Malfoy right there!”

“Well, he ran away. And like always I just felt so weepy. I hate it. I hate him. I really do,” Hermione said in frustration. “He makes me feel like I’m not a very good witch. The way he’s always going on about how I don’t even deserve my magic!”

Ron pulled out a chocolate frog from his pocket. One of the ones that Hermione had given him for Christmas. “You’ve got more magic in your little finger than most anyone I know Hermione,” he told her, giving it to her.

Hermione looked like she might just cry some more, but stopped herself and gave Ron a hug.

“Thanks, Ron,” she said opening the chocolate with delight. She ate the frog and looked at the card. “Oh, Dumbledore. I haven’t read his…” and she trailed off.

“ _I’ve found him!”_ she whispered. “I’ve found Flamel!”

“I told you he had something to do with Dumbledore!” Harri exclaimed. “What does it say?”

“Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon’s blood, _and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel_ ’!”

Hermione was so excited that she jumped to her feet. “Stay there!” she said, and she sprinted up the stairs to the girls’ dormitories. Neville and Ron barely had time to exchange mystified looks before she was dashing back, an enormous old book in her arms.

“I never thought to look in here!” she whispered excitedly. “I got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading.”

“ _Light?_ ” said Ron, but Hermione told him to be quiet until she’d looked something up, and started flicking frantically through the pages, muttering to herself. At last, she found what she was looking for.

“I knew it! _I knew it_!”

“Are we allowed to speak yet?” said Ron grumpily. Hermione ignored him.

“Nicolas Flamel,” she said dramatically, “is the _only known maker of the Philosopher’s Stone._ ”

“The ultimate goal of alchemy! Yes of course! Madam Pomphry told me that Dumbledore did his apprenticeship in alchemy under Nicolas Flamel!”

Hermione nodded excitedly and pushed the book toward Ron and Neville, who looked quite confused. They read it.

“See?” said Hermione, when the boys had finished. “The dog must be guarding the Flamel’s Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they’re friends and he knew someone was after it, that’s why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!”

“A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!” said Neville. “No wonder Snape’s after it! _Anyone_ would want it.”

Harri cleared her throat nervously. “So… to counter that, One, I don’t think it’s Snape. Two, he’s refereeing the next Quidditch match. And um... three...Oh… he’s my new guardian so I’m prettysurehedoesn’twantokillme. Okay, night”

Harri ran up the stairs, leaving the other three gobsmacked.

At breakfast the next morning, Neville and Ron were hissing all sorts of questions at Harri who did her best to answer. They were concerned after all. Neville was especially surprised to learn that his parents were third in line to get custody of Harri.

Hermione was just very quiet and gave Harri a look that said they would _talk_ later _._

The next morning in Defense Against the Drak Arts, while copying down different ways of treating werewolf bites, Ron and Neville were still discussing what they’d do with a Philosopher's Stone if they had one. It wasn’t until Ron said he’d buy his own Quidditch team that they turned back on Harri and Snape refereeing the match.

“I’m going to play! I may even go ask him why he’s doing it.” Harri hissed back.

“But then you’ll be alone with you!” Ron exclaimed.

“I’ve been alone with him plenty Ron,” Harri said, exasperated.

* * *

 Harri had quite a lot to ask Professor Snape actually. So that evening, she gathered up her picture and her mother’s charms textbook and went down to Professor Snape’s office. Harri knocked on the door halfway down the cold passageway to the dungeons.

“Enter,” Snape called. The shadowy walls of his office were lined with shelves of large glass jars, in which floated all manner of revolting things Harri didn’t really want to know the name of at the moment. The fireplace was bright though, filled with a warm fire.

“Miss. Potter,” he said with a glare, looking up from his grading. “To what do I owe the… pleasure.”

Harri closed the door behind her, and turned to face Snape. “Remus Lupin sent me a picture of my parent’s wedding day. Do you know who these men are?” she asked.

Snape looked at the picture and grimaced. “That would be Sirius Black, currently in Azkaban, Remus Lupin,” he pointed to the tired looking sandy-haired man, “and Peter Pettigrew, deceased.”

“Sirius Black is the one Mr. Williamson called my godfather. Why is my godfather in Azkaban? Also, what is Azkaban?”

Snape sneered. “Azkaban is a prison. It is for the worst kinds of criminals. Sirius Black is there because he murdered thirteen people, including Peter Pettigrew.”

Harri’s eyes widened. Well, she hadn’t been expecting that. “How could they all be friends, if he was so dark?” Harri asked.

“Sirius Black was always the worst sort. He tried to murder me when we were in school.” He said this so seriously that she knew Snape wasn’t exaggerating.

“He tried to MURDER you?? Wasn’t he expelled then?”

“Of course not,” Snape said with a sneer. “Everyone knows that the Black’s have more money than God. Even their Gryffindor black sheep wouldn’t be expelled. They bribed the school board.”

“But he’s in prison now,” Harri said, looking down at the picture again. It didn’t seem right somehow. She felt it in her bones. They were all smiling together, it didn’t seem possible for the handsome dark-haired man to be evil, not with his arm slung over her father’s shoulders.

“If that’s all, Miss. Potter. I don’t enjoy revisiting the past.”

“Well there is one more thing, Professor…” she trailed off.

“Out with it or be gone,” said Snape sharply.

“Everyone thinks you’re trying to murder me during the next Quidditch match.”

Snape sneered. “Yes, the best way to get rid of you would be through that infernal sport.”

Harri didn’t bite. “Why are you refereeing? Hermione swears that she saw you putting a curse on my broom during the last match, but I don’t think that’s true. What’s going on?”

Snape eyed her warily. “Someone was putting a curse on your broom. Miss. Granger has a keen eye, I was performing the counter curse. I suppose it was also Miss. Granger who set fire to my robes”

Harri didn’t meet his eyes and stayed silent. “Very well, Harriet, if you insist on knowing,” Snape said softly. “But if you are demanding honesty from me, I require the same from you. How much do you know about what is happening in this school?”

“Well you know I know about the dog,” Harri began.

“And do you know what the dog is guarding?” Snape asked.

“Yes,” Harri admitted.

“Then you can see why it is of such value. But do you understand who would want such a thing?” Snape asked her, deadly serious in his tone.

“Well… wouldn’t anyone?” Harri asked.

“In a broad sense, yes anyone. But there are not many with the power to break into Gringotts. There are not many that would necessitate the combined work of six Masters of their Arts and a Cerberus to guard an object. Surely you can see, Harriet, that not just anyone is after the Stone. A thing that can give eternal life.”

It hit Harri like a ton of bricks. She began to tremble. “Voldemort,” she whispered.

“Do not speak the Dark Lord’s name, foolish girl,” Snape hissed.

“Oh no… oh no no no…” Harri whispered to herself.

“Someone within these halls is working with him to steal the Stone,” Snape continued on. “That someone cursed your broomstick at your last Quidditch match. That is why I will be flying around on an infernal broomstick next week.”

Harri didn’t care about that anymore. So what if Voldemort was trying to kill her. That was just because he didn’t _know_ yet… But what if he did? What would happen? Would he still try to kill Harri? Or would he try to take her away from Hogwarts? From all her friends and her newly found home? She didn’t even know what a Dark Lord would want with an eleven-year-old. Probably nothing, so he would just kill her. Kill her in revenge of what happened ten years ago.

Oh, was Snape talking to her?

He was leaning over her, gripping both of her shoulders, repeating her name.

“Harriet,” he said again. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breath! What was happening? Snape muttered a spell. Her breathing regulated. Slow breaths, in.. out. Everything was fine. Only it wasn’t. But her magic was under control, it felt like a barrier was around it to prevent it from pushing out. Her breathing was on a constant rhythm.

Snape counted out her breaths for a full minute before he let the spell up. Harri concentrated on keeping the same count, the leash her magic began to fade, and it was swirling in agitation.

“I understand that this could lead to panic, Harriet. But there really is nothing to worry about right now. The Stone is safe. He will not come for you.”

“But he will,” Harri said at last in a high pitched burst. “He will! Once he knows!”

“He already knows,” Snape said in a shocked voice, “why do you think he tried to kill you?”

“How could he already know??!” Harri exclaimed in pure panic. “I refuse to be stupid enough to say something identifiable to him if we ever meet!”

Snape froze.

“What?” His voice was ice.

“How do you know he knows,” Harri asked still in a panic. “Has he _told_ people!?”

“What do you think the Dark Lord knows, Harriet,” Snape asked slowly.

“This!” Harri did the only thing she could think of to explain. She ripped the silver mark covering off and showed Snape the horrible words.

He blinked once and sunk down to the floor in front of Harri. His hands were on his head. Horror was plain across his face.

“That… that wasn’t what you meant. When you said that he already knows…” Harri realized.

“No, Harriet. That wasn’t what I meant at all. This, however, this is very unwelcome news.”

“He’s going to kill me when he finds out,” Harri said with certainty.

“No, Harriet. I very much doubt that. This brings new meaning to quite a lot. I see now. No, he won’t kill you, but I fear what he will do to you instead.”

“What could he do to me?” Harri asked, fearfully.

Professor Snape met her eyes, he looked gaunt. He looked far older than thirty. “He will use you to conquer death once and for all,” he said faintly.

“Oh, that’s all,” Harri replied and promptly fainted.

* * *

She was in a bed. It was very soft. She heard hushed voices around her.

“She needs to know Albus. She needs to train. This puts a new meaning on everything!”

“Now Severus, there is no need to overly burden a young girl. It’s too much.”

“She has been walking around with _those words_ on her wrist four months. That wasn’t a burden?”

“Severus, even I do not know how to react to this news. Though you are correct. It adds perspective to it all.”

“All what?” Harri asked softly. She opened her eyes and her vision swam. She groped around for her glasses. Someone handed them to her. She put them on as she sat up, looking around.

She wasn’t in the hospital wing or Snape’s office anymore. She was in a small room with bed, a desk, and a chest of drawers. There was no window, but several balls of glowing light hanging against the walls. She was in the dungeons still.

By the desk sat Professor Dumbledore, and Professor Snape was standing next to the bed.

“Harri, my dear girl. I am so sorry,” Dumbledore began. The pity in his voice grated on her frayed nerves. 

“Sorry?” Harri asked with a scoffing laugh. “How can anyone be sorry for this? It’s horrible.”

“It is horrible as well,” Dumbledore agreed. “But I am sorry for you because you are very young. To have such knowledge so young is not a blessing. Only a curse that will take your childhood further from you.”

“I’ve never had a childhood, Professor. This doesn’t really change that.” Both Snape and Dumbledore grimaced.

“Harriet, there are things you will need to know,” Snape began, but Dumbledore interrupted him.

“There are. When you are old enough. I must implore you to put all this from your mind. We here at Hogwarts will do everything we can to keep you safe. When you are ready,” and here his twinkling blue eyes looked sharply at Snape, “we will help you prepare for what is to come.”

“You mean when he tries to use me,” Harri said.

“Yes. But hopefully that will not be until long after you have finished your time here at Hogwarts. For now, dear girl, you are eleven. These things were not meant to weigh on your shoulders yet.”

Snape sighed but nodded. “We must ask Harriet that if anything ever seems odd, anything at all, that you come to find me, Professor McGonagall, or Professor Dumbledore.”

“Because someone in the castle is helping Voldemort?” Snape flinched, “sorry, You-Know-Who?”

“Harri, if anyone had a right to the name it is you. After all, fear of the name increases fear of the thing itself.” Dumbledore gave her a small smile. “And yes, we fear that there is someone in the castle who wishes you ill. But the protections guarding the Stone are very strong. I am confident in them.”

Harri nodded. She didn’t know if she believed the two men, but for now, that seemed a good enough answer.

“Harri,” Dumbledore continued on, looking quite mournful, “I owe you a very real apology. It was I who left you with your aunt and uncle. I foolishly believed that they would love you for your mother’s sake. The wards I set on the property would alert me of any stranger entering with ill intent. Foolish as I was, I did not think that the ill intent would come from within.”

Harri nodded, and there was that burning behind her eyes. The itch in the back of her throat. The rage she hadn’t felt since leaving Privet Drive.

She let it melt away.

“Thank you for letting me know Professor,” she said limply.

Dumbledore said nothing more on the matter. Merely stood, and said “It is late. I will be off Severus.” And he was gone.

Harri turned to Professor Snape who still stood beside the bed. He was glaring at the door that Professor Dumbledore had just left through. She swung her legs out from under the covers.

“How long was I asleep?” she asked.

“Several hours. I gave you a potion for mental restoration. To prevent another panic attack.” Snape looked very tired.

“Where are we? Can I have a note for being out past curfew?”

He shook his head. “These are the quarters off of my office. This room is for your use when we are at Hogwarts during the summer. Stay the night. It’s after midnight, it won’t do you good running around the castle at this time.” He left, looking ready to pass out himself.

There was water on the bedside table already, and a small bathroom off of her room. She found plain pajamas, probably transfigured, on the chair Dumbledore had vacated. Harri got back into bed and fell asleep quickly. She tried to do as Dumbledore had said, to not worry about the things she had learned that night.

Clear your mind, Harri thought, quoting the Occlemency book Snape had given her.

And that was all.

* * *

Despite her best efforts, as the match drew nearer Harri became more and more nervous. Someone was trying to kill her after all, it just wasn’t Professor Snape like Ron, Hermoine, and Neville all thought. Harri couldn’t bring herself to discuss her visit to Snape’s office. Hermione had asked where she had been that night, and Harri made a flimsy excuse about falling asleep in the common room.

Harri knew she wasn’t imagining it, but she seemed to be running into Snape wherever she went. At times, she was sure he was following her. Potions lessons were turning into a sort of weekly interrogation. Snape would always make her stay after class to ‘evaluate her mental well being’ and hand her potions to help calm her or stimulate her appetite when she confessed to skipping meals. Somehow the cold and snarling Potions master was turning into an overbearing mother-hen!

Harri knew, when they wished her good luck outside the locker rooms the next afternoon, that Ron, Hermione, and Neville were wondering whether they would see her alive again. This wasn’t what you’d call comforting. Even if Harri was worried about the same thing for a different reason. Harri heard Wood’s pep talk as she pulled on her Quidditch robes and picked up her Nimbus Two Thousand.

Ron, Hermione, and Neville, meanwhile, had found a place in the stands. They all were rather grim and had all brought their wands to the match. Little did Harri know that they had all secretly practiced the Leg-Locker Curse. They’d gotten the idea from Malfoy using it on Neville, and were ready to use it on Snape if he showed any sign of wanting to hurt Harri.

“Now don’t forget, it’s _Locomotor Morits_ ,” Hermione muttered as the boys slipped their wands up their sleeves.

“I _know_ ,” Ron snapped. “Don’t nag.”

Back in the locker room, Wood had taken Harri aside. “Don’t want to pressure you, Potter, but if we ever need an early capture of the Snitch it’s now. Finish the game before Snape can favor Hufflepuff too much.”

“The whole school’s out there!” said Fred Weasley, peering out of the door. “Even- blimey- Dumbledore’s come to watch!”

Harri’s heart did a summersault. “ _Dumbledore_?” she said, dashing to the door to make sure. Fred was right. There was no mistaking that silver beard.

Well, that was some comfort. With Snape in the air and Dumbledore in the stands, no one could really try anything.

Snape looked very angry as the teams marched onto the field- Harri knew this was because he hated flying- but it was also something that Ron noticed.

“I’ve never seen Snape look so mean,” he told Hermione. “Look- they’re off. Ouch!”

Someone had poked Ron in the back of the head. It was Malfoy.  “Oh, sorry Weasley didn’t see you there.”

Malfoy grinned broadly at Crabbe and Goyle. “Wonder how long Potter’s going to stay on her broom this time? Does anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?”

Ron didn’t answer; Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because George Weasley had hit a Bludger at him. Hermione, who had all her fingers crossed in her lap, was squinting fixedly at Harri, who was circling the game like a hawk, looking for the Snitch.

“You know how I think they choose people for Gryffindor?” said Malfoy loudly a few minutes later, as Snape awarded Hufflepuff another penalty for no reason at all. “It’s people who the hat feels sorry for. See, there’s Potter, who’s got no parents, then there’s the Weasleys, who’ve got no money, Longbottom whose got no brains, and Granger whose got stolen magic.”

Neville and Ron went bright red at this. Hermione though looked the angriest. If possible, her hair got even bigger. “I’ve got more magic in my little finger than you’ve got in your whole body, Malfoy,” she spat at him.

Malfoy cackled. “Is that so you little mudblood bent,” he sneered. This was clearly the last straw for Hermione, because she punched Malfoy square in the eye. He fell back howling in pain. Crabbe and Goyle looked confused about whether they should hit Hermione back or not. She brandished her wand at them, and they helped Malfoy up and left.

Ron and Neville stared at her in shock. “Blimey, Hermione,” Ron said in awe. But Hermione had turned her attention back to the game.

“Come on Harri!” she screamed, leaping onto her seat to watch as Harri sped straight at Snape- she barely even noticed that Malfoy had left.

Up in the air, Snape turned on his broomstick just in time to see something scarlet shoot past him, missing him by inches- the next second, Harri had pulled out of the dive, her arm raised in triumph, the Snitch clasped in her hand.

The stands erupted; it had to be a record, no one could ever remember the Snitch being caught so quickly.

Harri jumped off her broom, a foot from the ground. She couldn’t believe it. She’d done it- the game was over; it had barely lasted five minutes. As Gryffindors came spilling onto the field, she saw Snape land nearby, white-faced and tight-lipped- then Harri felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up into Dumbledore’s smiling face.

“Well done,” said Dumbledore quietly, so only Harri could hear. “Nice to see you haven’t been fixated on all that… been keeping busy… excellent…”

Snape looked relieved to be on the ground again.

* * *

Harri left the locker room alone some time later, to take her Nimbus Two Thousand back to the broom shed. She couldn’t ever remember feeling lighter. She’d really done something to be proud of now- no one could say she was just a famous name anymore. The evening air had never smelled so sweet. She walked over the damp grass, reliving the last hour in her head, which was a happy blur: Hermione in the distance, jumping up and down, Ron cheering with Neville.

Even Snape had given her a thin-lipped smile….

Speaking of Snape…

A hooded figure came swiftly down the front steps of the castle. Clearly not wanting to be seen, it walked as fast as possible towards the forbidden forest. Harri knew that prowling walk. Snape, sneaking into the forest while everyone else was at dinner- what as going on?

Harri jumped on her broom and took off. Gliding silently over the castle she saw Snape enter the forest at a run. She followed.

The trees were so thick she couldn’t see where Snape had gone. She flew in circles, lower and lower, brushing the top branches of trees until she heard voices. She glided toward them and landed noiselessly in a towering beech tree.

Harri knew Snape wouldn’t approve of this, but she had to know what was going on. If Voldemort could use their relationship to somehow live forever, shouldn’t she be aware of what was going on? Despite what Dumbledore or Snape might think?

She climbed carefully along one of the branches, holding tight to her broomstick, trying to see through the leaves.

Below, in a shadowy clearing, stood Snape, but he wasn’t alone. Quirrell was there. Harri couldn’t make out the look on his face, but he was stuttering worse than ever. Harri strained to catch what they were saying.

“... d-don’t know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus…”

“Oh, I thought we’d keep this private,” said Snape, his voice icy. “Students aren’t supposed to know about the Stone, after all.”

Harri leaned forward.  Quirrell was mumbling something. Snape interrupted him.

“Have you figured out how to get past that beast of Hagrid’s yet?” How to get past? Why would Snape ask Quirrel that when he knew that Harri knew. He had never asked her.

“B-b-but Severus, I-”

“You don’t want me as your enemy, Quirrell,” said Snape, taking a step toward him.

“I-I don’t know what you-”

“You know perfectly well what I mean.”

An owl hooted loudly, and Harri nearly fell out of the tree. She steadied herself in time to hear Snape say, “-your little bit of hocus-pocus. I’m waiting.”

“B-but I d-d-don’t-”

“Very well,” Snape cut in. “We’ll have another little chat soon, when you’ve had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie.”

He threw his cloak over his head and strode out of the clearing. It was almost dark, but Harri could see Quirrel, standing quite still as though he was petrified.

As she flew back to the castle Harri wondered what all that had meant. Did Snape think that Quirrel was the one in cahoots with Voldemort? Surely not? He was so… not the one Harri would think. Really, Harri could see why her friends thought Snape was the villain. In a storybook, Snape would be the red hearing.

Was Quirrell the actual villain though? A shiver ran down her spine at the thought.

* * *

“Harri, where have you been?” Hermione squeaked.

“We won! You won! We won!” shouted Ron thumping Harri on the back.

“Hermione gave Malfoy a black-eye!” Nevile said, also jumping up and down.

Harri tried to smile at Hermione, but couldn’t manage it. “Never mind that now, let’s find an empty room, you wait ‘til you hear this…”

She made sure Peeves wasn’t inside before shutting the door behind them, then she told them what she’d seen and heard.

“... and Snape knows I KNOW how to get past Fluffy, so if he needed that from Quirrell he would have just asked me. So that proves he isn’t trying to steal the Stone, and he thinks that Quirrell is!”

“So we were right, it _is_ the Philosopher's Stone, and Quirrell is trying to get past Fluffy- and Snape is trying to intimidate him out of breaking up all the protections that have been put in place?” Neville asked.

“Well no need to worry then,” said Ron cheerfully. “If it’s Quirrell, the Stone won’t be going anywhere.”

“I still think it’s Snape,” Hermione said firmly.  “He’s trying to get some anti-Dark Arts spell from Quirrell to break through-”

“You think the Stone’s only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape?” asked Neville in alarm.

Ron didn’t look so blase anymore. “It’ll be gone by next Tuesday.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What thoughtful comments I got the last post! And a lot of you got my Easter Egg for waaay off in the future. Hope you enjoyed this bit. I know some of you wanted Hermione to get the reveal first, but Menton!Snape is the gift that keeps giving.


	14. The Forbidden Forest

The next few weeks were eventful, mostly because Hagrid had hatched a dragon. It had taken discovery from Malfoy and the help of Ron’s brother Charlie, but Harri and Hermione were happily making their way to the tallest tower in the school with a Norweigan Ridgeback in a crate. It was dark, and they were hiding under the invisibility cloak, barely.

“Nearly there!” Harri panted as they reached the corridor beneath the tallest tower.  

Then a sudden movement ahead of them made them almost drop the crate. Forgetting they were already invisible, they shrank into the shadows, staring at the dark outlines of two people grappling with each other ten feet away. A lamp flared.

Professor McGonagall, in a tartan bathrobe and a hair net, had Malfoy by the ear.

“Detention!” she shouted. “And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you-”

“You don’t understand, Professor. Hermione Granger’s coming- she’s got a dragon!”

“What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on- I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!”

The steep spiral staircase up to the top of the tower seemed the easiest thing in the world after that. Not until they’d stepped out into the cold night air did they throw off the cloak, glad to be able to breathe properly again. Hermione did a sort of jig.

“Malfoy’s got detention! I could sing!

“Don’t,” Harri advised her.

Chuckling about Malfoy, they waited, Norbert thrashing about in his crate. About ten minutes later, four broomsticks came swooping down out of the darkness.

Charlie’s friends were a cheery lot. They showed Harri and Hermione the harness they’d rigged up, so they could suspend Norbert between them. They all helped buckle Norbert safely into it and then Harri and Hermione shook hands with the others and thanked them very much.

At last, Norbert was going… going… _gone._

They slipped back down the spiral staircase, their hearts as light as their hands, now that Norbert was off them. No more dragon- Malfoy in detention- what could spoil their happiness?

The answer to that was waiting at the foot of the stairs. As they stepped into the corridor, Filch’s face loomed suddenly out of the darkness.

“Well, well, well,” he whispered, “we _are_ in trouble.”

They’d left the invisibility cloak on top of the tower.

* * *

Things couldn’t have been worse.

Filch took them down to Professor McGonagall’s study on the first floor, where they sat and waited without saying a word to each other. Hermione was trembling. Excuses, alibis, and wild cover-up stories chased each other through Harri’s brain, each more feeble than the last. She couldn’t see how they were going to get out of trouble this time. They were cornered. How could they have been so stupid as to forget the cloak? There was no reason on earth that Professor McGonagall would accept for their being out of bed and creeping around the school in the dead of night, let alone being up in the tallest astronomy tower, which was out of bounds except for classes. Add Norbert and the invisibility cloak, and they might as well be packing their bags already.

Had Harri thought things couldn’t have been worse? She was wrong. When Professor McGonagall appeared, she was leading Neville. Neville, who was supposed to be taking care of Ron who had a dragon bitten hand.

He didn’t say anything, just had a very grim look on his face. “Malfoy,” he mouthed to Hermione when he thought McGonagall turned her back. It wasn't. She looked angry enough to breathe fire.

“I would never have believed it of any of you. Mr. Filch says you were up in the astronomy tower. It’s one o’clock in the morning. _Explain yourselves_.”

It was the first time Hermione had ever failed to answer a teacher’s question. She was staring at her slippers, as still as a statue.

“I think I’ve got a good idea of what’s been going on,” said Professor McGonagall. “It doesn’t take a genius to work it out. You fed Draco Malfoy some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, trying to get him out of bed and into trouble. I’ve already caught him. I suppose you think it’s funny that Longbottom here heard the story and got caught too?”

Neville, of course, knew this wasn’t the case, but none of them had the words to correct Professor McGonagall.

“I’m disgusted,” she went on. “Four students out of bed in one night! I’ve not heard of this since _your father_ Miss. Potter! You, Miss. Granger, I thought you had more sense. But it was _you_ who told Draco Malfoy all about this! I thought Gryffindor meant more to the three of you than this! All of three of you will receive detentions- yes, you too, Mr. Longbottom and fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor.”

“ _Fifty?_ ” Harri gasped- they would lose the lead, the lead she’d won in the last Quidditch match.

“Fifty points _each_ ,” said Professor McGonagall, breathing heavily through her long, pointed nose.

“Professor- please-”

“You _can’t_ -”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Potter. Now get back to bed, all of you. I've never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students.”

A hundred and fifty points lost. That put Gryffindor in last place. In one night, they’d ruined any chance Gryffindor had had for the house cup. Harri felt as though the bottom had dropped out of her stomach. Any affection that her house had held for her over the last few weeks would vanish. How could she ever make up for this?

Harri didn’t sleep all night. She could hear Hermione sobbing into her pillow for what felt like an hour, before Harri climbed into bed with Hermione. They didn’t sleep, just held each other and let the tears flow. What would happen when the rest of Gryffindor found out what they’d done?

At first, Gryffindors passing the giant hourglasses that recorded the house points the next day thought there’d been a mistake. How could they suddenly have a hundred and fifty points fewer than yesterday? And then the story started to spread: Harri Potter, the famous Harri Potter, their hero of two Quidditch matches, had lost them all those points. Her and a couple of other stupid first years.

From being one of the most popular and admired people at the school, Harri was suddenly the most hated. Even Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs turned on her because everyone had been longing to see Slytherin lose the house cup. Everywhere Harri went, people pointed and didn’t trouble to lower their voices as they insulted her. It was far too much, and Harri went invisible for the first time since that first potions class. She managed to reappear in the bathroom, where she was promptly sick. Ron helped her to the hospital wing, where he finally had his bite looked at.

Professor Snape was there within ten minutes. Looking very displeased with her. Ron was a few beds down, having Madame Pomphry treat him.

Snape scowled at her. “I believe you owe me an explanation.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Harri said, still shaking from magical exhaustion.

“Draco Malfoy was out of bed last night because he was convinced that you and your friends were in possession of a dragon. Now, Ron Weasley is in the hospital wing with a dragon bite. Do you care to explain.” Snape all but hissed the last part.  

“No. I do not care to explain.” Harri said stubbornly.

“And do you care at all for your safety? The safety of your friends or the other students at this school?”

She wanted to cry.

“Dragons are dangerous Harri! Now where is it?”

“Gone,” she said softly. “I dealt with it.” Understanding passed over Snape’s face.

“Harriet, you need to stop dealing with everything by yourself. You need to start coming to adults when things get serious. Dragons are an example of things being serious!” He very angry. Harri could tell because he as speaking very slowly and very softly.

“Well, I had to! People would get in trouble!” Harri exclaimed, trying to keep Hagrid’s name out of.

“There are consequences for actions, Harri. Sometimes you cannot protect people from the consequences of their actions.”

“Yes I can!” and Harri was nearly in tears.

Snape’s face was very hard. “I think it will be good for you then, to face the consequences of your own actions. Harriet, you were wrong. You should have come to me or Professor McGonagall. Someone who could have helped deal with this situation with more competence than a group of first years.”

Harri wanted to disappear all over again, but instead, she started to sob. She didn’t have the energy, magical or otherwise, to do much else.

* * *

“They’ll all forget about this in a few weeks. Fred and George have lost loads of points in all the times they’ve been here, and people still like them,” Ron assured her as they walked out of the Hospital Wing. Ron’s hand was an appropriate size again and wrapped in a bandage.

“They’ve never lost a hundred and fifty points in one go, though, have they?” said Harri miserably.

“Well- no,” Ron admitted.

It was a bit late to repair the damage, but Harri swore to herself not to meddle in things that weren’t her business from now on.  She would listen to Professor Snape. She was done with sneaking around and spying. She felt so ashamed of herself that she went to Wood and offered to resign from the Quidditch team.

“ _Resign_?” Wood thundered. “What good’ll that do? How are we going to get any points back if we can’t win at Quidditch?”

But even Quidditch had lost its fun. The rest of the team wouldn’t speak to Harri during practice, and if they had to speak about her, they called her, “the Seeker.”

Hermione and Neville were suffering, too. They didn’t have as bad a time as Harri, because they weren't as well-known, but nobody would speak to them, either. Hermione had stopped drawing attention to herself in class, keeping her head down and working in silence. This proved a bit counter-intuitive since Hermione was one of Gryffidnor’s biggest point winners in class.

Harri was almost glad that the exams weren’t far away. All the studying she had to do kept her mind off her misery. She, Ron, Hermione, and Neville kept to themselves, working late into the night, trying to remember the ingredients in complicated potions, learn charms and spells by heart, memorize the dates of magical discoveries and goblin rebellions…

Then, about a week before the exams were due to start, Harri’s new resolution not to interfere in anything that didn’t concern her was put to an unexpected test. Walking back from the library on her own one afternoon, she heard somebody whimpering from a classroom up ahead. As she drew closer, she heard Quirrells voice.

“No- no- not again, please-”

It sounded as though someone was threatening him. She thought she could make out a hissing sound. Her forehead began to throb.

“All right- all right-” she heard Quirrell sob.

Next second, Quirrell came hurrying out of the classroom straightening his turban. He was pale and looked as though he was about to cry. He strode out of sight; Harri didn’t think Quirrell had noticed her. She waited for his footsteps to disappear, then peered into the classroom. It was empty. There was a door that stood ajar at the far end, but Harri hadn’t heard anyone leaving the room. Why? How could Quirrell be in there alone, but not alone, at the same time?

Harri went back to the library, where Hermione was testing Ron on Astronomy. Harri told them what she’d heard.

“Snape’s done it, then!” said Ron. “If Quirrell’s told him how to break his Anti-Dark Force spell-”

“There’s still Fluffy, though,” said Hermione.

“But we know that can be found in a book at the library,” said Harri. “Surely whoever it is would already know how to get past Fluffy.”

“Maybe not. It would be hard for a Professor to come in here to research without someone noticing,” Neville pointed out.

“I still don’t think it’s Snape. It didn’t sound like him in the classroom. Something else is going on, I just don’t understand what,” Harri speculated.

The light of adventure was kindling again in Ron and Neville’s eyes, but Hermione interjected.

“We should go to Dumbledore. That’s what we should have done ages ago. If we try anything ourselves we’ll be thrown out for sure.”

“Dumbledore already know what we know. I’ve already told him,” Harri told them softly. The looked surprised.

“When did you talk to Dumbledore?” Neville asked.

“A while ago. In Snape’s office. They are certain that nothing can get to the stone.”

“Then the adults already know everything,” Hermione said. “There is nothing more we can do.”

“If we just do a bit of poking around-” Ron tried.  

“No,” said Harri flatly, “we’ve done enough poking around.” She pulled a map of Jupiter toward herself and started to learn the names of its moons. Snape would be so proud, she was sure.

* * *

 The following morning, notes were delivered to Harri, Hermione, and Neville at the breakfast table. They were all the same:

_Your detention will take place at eleven o’clock tonight._

_Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall._

_Professor M. McGonagall_

Harri had forgotten they still had detention. So at eleven o’clock that night, they said goodbye to Ron in the common room and went down to the entrance hall with Neville. Filch was already there- and so was Malfoy. Harri had also forgotten that Malfoy had gotten a detention, too.

“Follow me,” said Filch, lighting a lamp and leading them outside.

“I bet you’ll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won’t you, eh?” he said, leering at them. “Oh yes… hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me… It’s just a pity they let the old punishments die out… hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I’ve got the chains still in my office, keep ‘em well oiled in case they’re ever needed… Right, of we go and don’t think of running off, now, it’ll be worse for you if you do.”

They marched off across the dark grounds. Neville, who had a cold, kept sniffing. Harri wondered what their punishment was going to be. So far she thought it was odd that their punishment for being out late at night was for them to be out again, late at night.

The moon was bright, but clouds scudding across it kept throwing them into darkness. Ahead, Harri could see the lighted windows of Hagrid’s hut. Then they head a distant shout.

“Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want to get started.”

Harri’s heart rose; if they were going to be working with Hagrid it wouldn’t be so bad. Her relief must have shown on her face, because Filch said, “I suppose you think you’ll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, girl- it’s into the forest you’re going, and I’m much mistaken if you’ll all come out in one piece.”

At this Neville let out a little groan, and Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks.

“That forest?” he repeated, and he didn’t sound quite as cool as usual. “We can’t go in there at night- there are all sorts of things in there- werewolves, I heard.”

Neville clutched the sleeve of Harri’s robes and made a choking noise. Harri herself couldn’t quite believe this. They would get detention for going into the Forest. Why on earth was their detention doing something that was normally against school rules?

“That’s your problem, isn’t it?” said Filch to Malfoy, his voice cracking with glee. “Should’ve thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn’t you?”

Hagrid came striding toward them out of the dark, Fang at his heel. He was carrying his large crossbow, and a quiver of arrows hung over his shoulder. Once again, Harri was struck that wizards had never gotten around to firearms.

“Abou’ time,” he said. “I bin watin’ fer half an hour already. All right, Harri, Hermione, Neville?”

“I shouldn’t get too friendly to them Hagrid,” said Filch coldly, “they’re here to be punished, after all.”

“That’s why yer late, is it?”  said Hagrid, frowning at Filch. “Bin lecturin’ them eh? ‘Snot your place ter do that. Yeh’ve done yer bit, I’ll take over from here.”

“I’ll be back at dawn,” said Filch, “for what’s left of them,” he added hastily, and turned and started back toward the castle, his lamp bobbing away in the darkness.

Malfoy now turned to Hagrid.

“I’m not going in that forest,” he said, and Harri was pleased to hear a note of panic in his voice.

“Oh come on Malfoy,” said Hermione with a hit of spite in her voice. “Are you not _wizard_ enough to go in the forest?”

This seemed to hit a cord with Malfoy. He glared at Hermione, and actually was quiet for once. He looked at them all furiously, but then dropped his gaze.

“Right then,” said Hagrid, “now listen carefully, ‘cause it’s dangerous what we’re gonna do tonight, an’ I don’ want no one takin’ risks. Follow me over here a moment.”

He led them to the very edge of the forest. Holding his lamp up high, he pointed down a narrow, winding earth track that disappeared into the thick black trees. A light breeze lifted their hair as they looked into the forest.

“Look there,” said Hagrid, “see that stuff shinin’ on the ground? Silvery stuff? That’s unicorn blood. There’s a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We’re gonna try an’ find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery.”

“And what if whatever hurts the unicorn finds us first?” said Malfoy, voicing something that Harri had been thinking.

“There’s nothin’ that lives in the forest that’ll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang,” said Hagrid. Harri wasn’t so sure about that. “An’ keep ter the path. Right, now we’re gonna split into two parties an’ follow the trail in different directions. There’s blood all over the place, it must’ve bin staggerin’ around since last night at least.”

* * *

 Harri and Hermione were with Hagrid at first. They walked in the dark forest, listening for the unicorn. So far there had been nothing but blood.

Hagrid had them freeze, he pointed his crossbow forward on the path ahead. They could hear a strange slithering sound, rather like a cloak in the leaves. It passed. Harri felt her skin prick, and her magic felt something… off. Something familiar, but not familiar at the same time.

“I knew it,” Hagrid murmured. “There’s summat in here that shouldn’ be.”

They kept going, and came to a clearing. Another sound broke the silence, rather like hooves.

“Who’s there?” Hagrid called. “Show yerself- I’m armed!”

And into the clearing came- was it a man, or a horse? To the waist, a man with red hair and beard, but below there was a horse’s gleaming chestnut body with a long reddish tail. Harri and Hermione’s jaws dropped.

“Oh, it’s you, Ronan,” said Hagrid in relief. “How are yeh?”  He walked forward and shook the centaur’s hand.

“Good evening to you, Hagrid,” said Ronan. He had a deep sorrowful voice. “Were you going to shoot me?”

“Can’t be too careful, Ronan,” said Hagrid, patting his crossbow. “There’s summat bad loose in the forest. This is Harriet Potter and Hermione Granger, by the way. Students up at the school. An’ this is Ronan, you two. He’s a centaur.”

“We noticed,” said Hermione faintly as Ronan fixed Harri with his mythical gaze.

“Ah,” he said as he looked at her. “I thought that Mercury was oddly bright in the sky at twilight.”

“What?” Harri responded.

“Gemini too, is not usually visible this late in the year,” said the centaur, like that explained anything.

“Yeah,” said Hagrid, glancing around. “Listen, I’m glad we’ve run inter yeh Ronan, ‘cause there’s a unicorn bin hurt- you seen anythin’?”

Ronan didn’t answer immediately. He stared unblinkingly upward, then sighed. “Always the innocent are the first victims,” he said. “So it has been for ages past, so it is now.”

“Yeah, but I was meanin’ anythin’ unusual closer to home,” said Hagrid. “So yeh haven’t noticed anythin’ strange?”

Yet again, Ronan took a while to answer. At last, he said, “The forest hides many secrets. With twin flames though, the path will be lit.”

A movement in the trees behind Ronan made Hagrid raise his bow again, but it was only a second centaur, black-haired and bodied and wilder-looking than Ronan.

“Hullo, Bane,” said Hagrid. “All right?”

“Good evening, Hagrid, I hope you are well?”

“Well enough. Look, I”ve jus’ bin askin’ Ronan, you seen anythin’ odd in here lately? There’s a unicorn bin injured- would yet know anythin’ about it?”

Bane walked over to stand next to Ronan. He fixed Harri with his sharp gaze. “Mercury was bright at twilight,” he told her.

“We’ve heard,” said Hagrid grumpily. “Well, if either of you do see anythin’, let me know, won’t yeh? We’ll be off, then.”

Harri and Hermione followed him out of the clearing. They chatted about their run-in with the centaurs until Hermione saw red sparks.

“Hagrid! Look! Red sparks, the others are in trouble!”

“You two wait here! Hagrid shouted. “Stay on the path, I’ll come back for yeh!”

But the others weren’t in trouble. When Hagrid returned, he did so very grumpily. Malfoy had apparently grabbed Neville as a joke, and Nevile had sent up the sparks. Hagrid sent Harri off with Malfoy, looking apologetic. But it was a position Harri was glad to take instead of Hermione.

The walked for nearly half an hour, deeper and deeper into the forest until the path became impossible to follow because the trees were so thick. Harri thought the blood seemed to be getting thicker. There were splashes on the roots of a tree, as though the poor creature had been thrashing around in pain close by. Harri could see a clearing ahead, through the tangled branches of an ancient oak.

“Look-” she murmured, holding out her arm to stop Malfoy. Something bright white was gleaming on the ground. They inched closer.

It was the unicorn all right, and it was dead. Harri had never seen anything so beautiful and sad. Its long slender legs were out at odd angles where it had fallen and its mane was spread pearly-white on the dark leaves.

It was the type of scene where magic seemed to dictate that tears be shed.

Harri had taken one step toward it when a slithering sound made her freeze where she stood. A bush on the edge of the clearing quivered… Then out of the shadows, a hooded figure came crawling across the ground like some stalking beast.

Harri’s magic fanned out around her instantly, frazzled at the threatening sight. She could _feel_ the magic of the dead unicorn, and the familiar magic of the hooded figure. Harri, Malfoy, and Fang stood transfixed. The cloaked figure reached the unicorn, lowered its head over the wound in the animal’s side, and began to drink its blood.

“AAAAAAAAARGH”

Malfoy let out a terrible scream and bolted- so did Fang. The hooded figure raised its head and looked right at Harri- unicorn blood was dribbling down its front. It got to its feet and came swiftly toward Harri- she couldn’t move for fear.

Then a pain like she’d never felt before pierced her head, it was as though her scar was on fire. It cut through the fear, and her magic reacted violently. The hooded figure was pushed back from Harri several meters. Thrown against a tree. But it stood again, and now brandished a wand.

Half blinded, Harri staggered backward. She heard hooves behind her, galloping, and something jumped clean over Harri, charging at the figure.

The pain in Harri’s head was so bad she fell to her knees. It took a minute or two to pass. When she looked up, the figure had gone. A centaur was standing over her, not Ronan or Bane; this one looked younger; he had white-blond hair and a palomino body.

“Are you all right?” said the centaur, pulling Harri to her feet.

“Yes- thank you- what was that thing? It’s magic… it felt like something familiar. But I would remember meeting something like that!”

The centaur didn’t answer. He had astonishingly blue eyes, like pale sapphires. He looked carefully at Harri, his eyes lingering on the scar that stood out, living, on Harri’s forehead.

“You are Harriet Potter,” he said. “You had better get back to Hagrid. The forest is not safe at this time- especially for you. Can you ride? It will be quicker this way.”

“My name is Firenze,” he added, as he lowered himself on to his front legs so that Harri could clamber onto his back.

There was suddenly a sound of more galloping form the other side of the clearing. Ronan and Bane came bursting through the trees, their flanks heaving and sweaty.

“Firenze!” Bane thundered. “What are you doing? You have a human on your back! Have you no shame? Are you a common mule?”

“Do you realize who this is?” said Firenze. “This is the Potter girl. The quicker she leaves this forest, the better.”

“What have you been telling her?” growled Bane. “Remember, we are sworn not to set ourselves against the heavens. Have we not read what is to come in the movements of the planets.”

Ronan pawed the ground nervously. “I’m sure Firenze thought he was acting for the best,” he said in his gloomy voice.

Bane kicked his back legs in anger.

“For the best! What is that do with us? Centaurs are concerned with what has been foretold! It is not our business to run around interfering with twin flames!”

Firenze suddenly reared on his hind legs in anger, so that Harri had to grab his shoulders to stay on.

“Do you not see that unicorn?” Firenze bellowed at Bane. “Do you not understand why it was killed? Or have the planets not let you in on that secret? I set myself against what is lurking in this forest, Bane, yes, with humans alongside me if I must.”

And Firenze whisked around; with Harri clutching on as best she could, they plunged into the trees, leaving Ronan and Bane behind them.  

Harri didn’t have a clue what was going on. “Why’s Bane so angry?” she asked. “What as that thing you saved me from?”

Firenze slowed to a walk, warned Harri to keep her head bowed in case of low hanging branches, but did not answer Harry’s question. They made their way through the trees in silence for a long time. They were passing a particularly dense patch of trees, however, when Firenze suddenly stopped.

“Harriet Potter, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?”

“No,” said Harri, startled by the odd question. “We’ve only used the horn and tail hair in Potions.”

“That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn,” said Firenze. “Only one who had nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips.”

Harri looked fixedly at the back of Firenze’s head, which was dappled silver in the moonlight.

“Voldemort,” she whispered.

“Indeed,” said Firenze. “You and your twin flame are destined to meet again in these coming weeks. Mercury is bright, and Gemini should not be visible as it was at twilight.”

“What is a-”

“Harri! Harri, are you alright?” Hermione was running toward them down the path, Hagrid puffing along behind her.

“I’m fine,” said Harri, hardly knowing what she was saying. “The unicorn’s dead, Hagrid, it’s in the clearing back there.”

“This is where I leave you,” Firenze murmured as Hagrid hurried off to examine the unicorn. “You are safe now.”

Harri slid off his back.

“Good luck Harriet Potter,” said Firenze. “That planets have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times.”

He turned and cantered back into the depths of the forest, leaving Harri shivering behind him. She turned to Hermione and hugged her. Hermione’s solid arms steadied her and were the closest thing to home that Harri knew.

* * *

Ron had fallen asleep in the dark common room, waiting for them to return. He shouted something about Quidditch fouls when Harri roughly shook him awake. In a matter of seconds, though, he was wide-eyed as Harri began to tell her three friends what had happened in the forest.

Harri couldn’t sit down. She paced up and down in front of the fire. She was still shaking. “Voldemort’s waiting in the forest… he’s just in there waiting for someone to bring him the stone!”

“Stop saying the name!” said Ron in a terrified whisper, while Neville nodded. Harri wasn’t listening.

“Firenze saved me, but he shouldn’t have done so… Bane was furious… he was talking about interfering with twin flames and the planet.”

“Twin flames?” asked Neville. “That’s odd.”

“You know what a twin flame is?” Harri asked him. Hermione didn’t know either apparently, because she was looking intently at Neville.

“Well… yes, but Harri you would know if you were one with… him. I mean… it supersedes everything.  It’s a bond that’s beyond rare. You would know.” Neville assured.

Harri went very pale, but she didn’t say anything. She would know? Time to talk to Snape again. Everyone in Hogwarts hated her right now, she wasn’t about to let Ron, Hermione, and Neville know about… that. They would hate her too.

“Harri,” Hermione said, filling the silence. “Everyone says Dumbledore’s the only one he was ever afraid of. With Dumbledore around, he won’t touch you. Anyway, who says that centaurs are right? It sounds very much like fortune-telling to me.” Hermione glared up the girl's dormitory stairs, clearly thinking of Lavender and Parvati.

The sky had turned light before they stopped talking. They went to bed exhausted, their throats sore. But the night’s surprises weren’t over.

When Harri pulled back her sheets, she found her invisibility cloak folded neatly underneath them. There was a note pinned to it:

_Just in case._


	15. Through the Trap Door

Harri was pounding on Professor Snape’s door by five that evening. She had slept most of the day and had awoken from a nightmare about Voldemort and the chilling slithering sound of his cloak in the leaves.

Snape opened the door and looked furious to see Harri making such a racket. She pushed her way in, and turned to face him as he closed the door.

“Well you told me to come to you if anything happened. So I’m here! I’m coming to you!”

Snape raised an eyebrow at her, but said nothing. “During my detention, we went to the Forbidden Forest. Turns out Voldemort is there and killing Unicorns until he can get the Stone.”

She had shocked Snape further into silence. “Well,” Harri said, looking at him expectantly.

“Are you sure that it was the Dark Lord,” he chocked out.

“Fairly sure. A centaur told me. He also told me that Voldemort was my twin flame, whatever that means.”

Snape didn’t look surprised at the twin flame bit. Not the way Neville had when she had brought it up. He knew what a twin flame was, he just wasn't felling her. He just nodded. “Well, stay out of the forest then Miss. Potter. I assure you, the Stone is safe. It will not be removed from its hiding place.”

“Are you really sure though, because it seems to me like we should be more concerned about Voldemort hanging around in the Forbidden Forest!”

“Do you think I’m not concerned,” Snape hissed at her.

“Well, you’re not acting like it! None of you are. It’s all ‘take your exams Harri, don’t worry about the Dark Lord hanging around outside the castle waiting to MURDER you.”

“Hard as it is to believe, that is exactly what you should be doing.”

She gave Snape a mutinous look. “Fine,” Harri snapped. “Fine. Just ignore me. Believe the Stone is safe. Do nothing-”

“Five points from Gryffindor, Harriet. Keep your tone civil,” he said sharply. His tone wasn’t very civil.

“Forget it, I’m leaving,” and she ducked past him, opened the door, and slammed it behind her. Adults were just as useless as they always were.

* * *

In years to come, Harri would never quite remember how she managed to get through her exams when she half expected Voldemort to come bursting through the door at any moment. Yet the days crept by, and there could be no doubt that Fluffy was still alive and well behind the locked door.

It was sweltering hot, especially in the large classroom where they did their written papers. They had been given special, new quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an Anti-Cheating spell.

They had practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called them one by one into his class to see if they could make a pineapple tap-dance across a desk. Professor McGonagall watched them turn a mouse into a snuffbox- points were given for how pretty the snuffbox was, but taken away if it had whiskers. Snape made them all nervous, breathing down their necks while they tried to remember how to make a Forgetfulness Potion. Harri was certain she had gotten the potion perfect, despite his glares.

Harri did the best she could, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in her forehead, which had been bothering her since her trip to the forest. Parvati and Lavender were concerned for Harri, as she kept being woken up by her old nightmare, except now it was worse because there was a hooded figure dripping blood.

Harri had realized one evening, as she sat with the two girls drinking tea, that they might be able to make sense of what Firenze had said.

“Do either of you know why it would matter that Mercury was bright or Gemini would be visible this time of year?”

Parvati nodded sagely, “Well Mercury is the planet that rules over Gemini’s. It’s a messenger. Trying to communicate something. But you don’t need to worry about Gemini, Harri. You’re a Leo.”

“Would… would a twin flame effect that?”  

“A twin flame?” asked Lavender, looking excited. “Oh Harri, you can’t really think that, can you? They’re so rare. And never end well.”

“What is it exactly?” Harri asked.

“A twin flame is a bond stronger than a simple soulmate,” said Parvati. “It’s like destiny, but never in a good way. They always end in disaster. Because they’re polar opposites. Everything from their magic to their personalities will be different. So they never get along, but magic pulls them together.”

“How do you know that it’s a twin flame then, instead of just being soulmates who don’t get along?” Harri asked.

“Well, there haven’t been many twin flames. There is a spell. Sometimes soulmates who don’t get along use it. I don’t think there has been a twin flame in nearly forever though.” Lavender shrugged.

“I really doubt that’s what’s going on Harri,” Parvati tried. “Has someone said your words? Is he a jerk like Malfoy is to Hermione. Because those two will probably just grow up in a few years and get along. Same for you.”  

Harri shook her head, “Just curious. I read about it in a novel, and didn’t understand what it meant.”

“Oooooh one of those novels,” Lavender said with a giggle. “Harri you should have told us. Those novels always are fun, aren’t they?”

Harri wasn’t sure what novels Lavender meant but nodded anyway. She’d look into it over the summer. Harri let the topic of twin flames drop, and hoped that she wasn’t really one with Voldemort. It could only make things worse.

The nightmares continued though, and no one understood. Maybe it was because they hadn’t seen what Harri had in the forest,  maybe it was because they didn’t have scars burning on their foreheads, or maybe it was because they weren’t soulmates with a Dark Lord, but her friends didn’t seem as worried about the Stone as Harri. The idea of Voldemort certainly scared them, but he didn’t keep visiting them in dreams, and they were so busy with their studying they didn’t have time to fret about what anyone might be up to.

Their very last exam was History of Magic. One hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who’d invented self-stirring cauldrons and they’d be free, free for a whole wonderful week until their exam results came out. When the ghost of Professor Binns told them to put down their quills and roll up their parchment, Harri couldn’t help cheering with the rest.

“That was far easier than I thought it would be,” said Hermione as they joined the crowds flocking out onto the sunny grounds. “I needn’t have learned about 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager.”

Hermione always liked to go through their exam papers afterward, but Ron said this made him feel ill, so they wandered down to the lake and flopped under a tree. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were tickling the tentacles of a giant squid which was basking in the warm shallows.

“No more studying,” Ron sighed happily, stretching out on the grass.

“I’m fairly certain I passed every class. I think I even got an O in Herbology,” Neville said cheerfully as he splayed out next to Ron.

Harri was rubbing her forehead. “I wish I knew what this means!” she burst out angrily. “My scar keeps hurting- it’s happened before but never as often as this...” Harri tried to think of other times. Since seeing Voldemort it was common… at the opening feast when Snape had looked at her… it felt sore in Defense… Quirrel. Snape had been talking to Quirrell during the opening feast. Was Quirrell the reason?

“Go to Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione suggested.

“I’m not ill,” said Harri. “I think it’s a warning… it has to do with Quirrell I think. Quirrell and Voldemort.”

Ron flinched, “Do you have to say that name _today_ Harri?”

“Harri, relax, Hermione’s right, the Stone’s safe as long as Dumbledore’s around. Anyway, we’ve never had any proof that Snape or Quirrell found out how to get past Fluffy. Fluffy nearly ripped Snape’s leg off once. He’s not going to try it again in a hurry.”

Harri nodded, but couldn’t shake off the lurking feeling that there was something she’d forgotten. Hagrid would never betray Dumbledore. She knew that. Hagrid would never tell anyone how to get past Fluffy… never… but-

Harri suddenly jumped to her feet.

“Where are you going?” said Ron sleepily.

“I’ve just thought of something,” said Harri. She had turned white, “We’ve got to go and see Hagrid, now.”

“Why?” panted Hermione, hurrying to keep up.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit odd,” said Harri, scrambling up the grassy slope, “that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? How many people wander around with dragon eggs if it’s against wizard law? Lucky they found Hagrid, don’t you think? Why didn’t I see it before?”

It only took one short conversation with Hagrid to see that Harri was perfectly right. Hagrid had told the hooded stranger how to get past Fluffy. The four of them shot off back to the castle as soon as Hagrid made his accidental confession.

“We’ve got to go to Dumbledore,” said Harri panting. “Hagrid told that stranger how to get past Fluffy, and it was either Quirrell or Voldemort under that cloak- it must’ve been easy, once he’d got Hagrid drunk. I just hope Dumbledore believes us. Firenze might back us up if Bane doesn’t stop him. Where’s Dumbledore’s office?”

They looked around, as if hoping to see a sign pointing them in the right direction. They had never been told where Dumbledore lived, nor did they know anyone who had been sent to see him.

“We’ll just have to-” Harri began, but a voice suddenly rang across the hall.

“What are you four doing inside?”

It was Professor McGonagall, carrying a large pile of books.

“We want to see Professor Dumbledore,” said Hermione, rather bravely the other three thought.

“See Professor Dumbledore?” Professor McGonagall repeated as though this was a very fishy thing to want to do. “Why?”

Harri swallowed- now what?

“It’s sort of secret,” Neville squeaked. Harri wished he hadn’t, Professor McGonagall’s nostrils flared.

“Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago,” she said coldly. “He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London.”  

Harri heard the words with resigned acceptance. Of course, he was gone. That’s what adults did. They left when you needed them to protect you. They didn’t believe you when you said you were worried. They told you to sit back, calm down, and take your beating. Well no more. Never again.

“Thanks, Professor,” Harri said with a bright smile. “We’ll just head out then.” She turned and walked back outside, the others trailing her confused.

“Harri, we should tell her,” Hermione insisted once they were outside again.

“They already know Hermione. I keep telling them. No. Dumbledore is gone, so it’s tonight. Voldemort is going after the stone tonight. Here is what we have to do. I’m going through the trapdoor tonight, and I will try to get the stone first.”

“You’re mad!” said Ron.

“You can’t Harri, you’ll get killed!” exclaimed Neville.

“You’ll be expelled!” Hermione said with a shudder.

“SO WHAT?” Harri shouted. “Don’t you understand? If Voldemort gets hold of the Stone, he’s back. Haven’t you head what he was like when he was trying to take over? Our lives will be over. MY LIFE will be over. He won’t leave any of us alone. Hermione, they’ll get rid of you completely. You hear how Malfoy talks about your ‘dirty blood’. Neville, who is to say he doesn't finish off your parents? Ron, your family is full of ‘blood traitors’ do you think he’ll just forgive you all and welcome you back to the fold? NO. If I get caught before I get to the Stone, fine. It just means that I tried to stop him before he could USE me. Because I won’t let him. I’m never going to the Dark Side, he killed my parents!”

She glared at them.  

“You’re right Harri,” said Hermione in a small voice.

“I’ll use the invisibility cloak,” said Harri. “It’s just lucky I got it back.”

“But will it cover all four of us?” said Ron.

“All- all four of us?”

“Oh, come off it, you don’t think we’d let you go alone?”

“You’re our friend, Harri. Friends don’t let friends fight the Dark side alone,” said Neville with a determined face.

“How do you think you’d get to the Stone without us? I’d better go and look through my books, there might be something useful…”

“But if we get caught, you three will be expelled too.”

“Not if I can help it,” said Hermione grimly. “Flitwick told me in secret that I got a hundred and twelve percent on his exam. They’re not throwing me out after that.”

“And anyway,” said Neville with a slight smile, “You’ve got plenty of money Harri. Just bribe the school board like a pureblood would.”

Harri laughed, amazed at the friends she had made over the last nine months.

* * *

After only a small run in with Peeves, they were outside the third-floor corridor- and the door was already ajar.

“Well, there you are,” said Harri quietly. “He’s already got past Fluffy.” Seeing the open door somehow seemed to impress upon all four of them what was facing them. Underneath the cloak, Harri turned to the other three.

“If you want to go back, I won’t blame you,” she said. “You can take the cloak, I won’t need it now.” Harri was used to being alone. So in a way, it did surprise her to hear her friends say: “You’re mad,” “Don’t be stupid,” and “We’re coming.”

Harri pushed the door open. As the door creaked open, rumbling growls met their ears. All three of the dog’s noses sniffed madly in their direction, even though it couldn’t see them.

“What’s that at its feet?” Hermione whispered.

“Looks like a harp,” said Ron. “You-Know-Who must have left it there.”

“It must wake up the moment you stop playing,” said Harri. “Well, here goes again….”

She put Hagrid’s flute to her lips and blew. It was a decent enough tune, Harri had been practicing on it.  It was just a simple melody that she had fiddled with. Harri hardly drew breath before the dog’s growls ceased and it was slumped to the ground, fast asleep.

“Keep playing,” Ron warned Harri as they slipped out of the cloak and crept toward the trapdoor. They could feel the dog’s hot, smelly breath as they approached the giant heads.

“I can pull the door open,” said Neville peering over the dog’s back.

“All right,” said Ron, gritting his teeth with nerves. Neville stepped carefully over the dog's legs. He bent, pulled the ring of the trapdoor, which swung op and open.

“What can you see?” Hermione said anxiously.

“Nothing- just black- there’s no way of climbing down, we’ll just have to drop.

Harri, who as still playing the flute, waved at the others to get their attention and pointed to herself.

“You want to go first? Are you sure?” said Ron.

“I really can’t tell how deep this goes,” Neville told her.

“I’ll take the flute, Harri,” and Hermione quickly made the transfer. In the few second’s of silence, the dog growled and twitched, but the moment Hermione began to play it fell back into its deep sleep.

Harri climbed over it and looked down through the trapdoor. There was no sign of the bottom. She lowered herself through the hole until she was hanging on by just her fingertips. Then she looked up at Ron and said, “If anything happens to me, don’t follow. Go straight to the owlery and send an owl to Dumbledore, right?”

“Right,” agreed Ron and Neville.

“See you in a minute, I hope…”

And Harri let go. Cold, damp air rushed past her as she fell down, down, down and-

FLUMP. With a funny, muffled sort of thump, she landed on something soft. She sat up and felt around, her eyes not used to the gloom. If felt as though she was sitting on some sort of plant.

“It’s okay!” she called up. “But I think it’s a plant of some sort. Neville come quickly so we can figure this out. I don’t know what it does, but since it’s down here it probably can’t be good!”

Neville did jump, quickly followed by Ron and Hermione. There was a loud bark from the dog, but she had already jumped.

“We must be miles under the school,” said Hermione.

They looked around and realized what was around them. Neville had already bolted to the other wall, and Hermione managed to free herself from the plat beofre it got a firm grip on her.

“Stop moving!” Hermione demanded. “This is Devil’s Snare!”

Before she could give a good lecture about it though, Neville had already whipped out his wand and sent out the bluebell flames that Hermione had taught them all how to cast. In a matter of seconds, Ron and Harri felt it loosen its grip around them, as it cringed away from the light and warmth. They pulled free.

“Oh Neville,” said Hermione, “that was such fast thinking! I had just gotten to fire, and I was just thinking we didn’t have wood!”

“Yes, that was great Neville!”

Neville looked really surprised at himself. “I’ve never done anything like that before,” he spluttered.

“This way,” said Harri, pointing down a stone passageway, which was the only way forward.

All they could hear apart from their footsteps was the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls. The passageway sloped downward, and Harri was reminded of Gringotts. With an unpleasant jolt of heart, she remembered the dragons said to be guarding vaults in the wizard bank. If they met a dragon, a fully-grown dragon- Norbert had been bad enough…  

“Can you hear something?” Ron whispered.

Harri listened. A soft rustling and clinking seemed to be coming from up ahead.

“Do you think it’s a ghost?” asked Neville.

“I don’t know… sounds like wings to me.”

“There’s light ahead- I can see something moving.”

They reached the end of the passageway and saw before them a brilliantly lit chamber, it’s ceiling arching high above them. It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door.

“Do you think they’ll attack us if we cross the room?” said Ron.

“Probably,” said Harri. “They don’t look vicious, but I suppose if they all swooped down at once… well, there’s no other choice.... I’ll run.”

She took a deep breath, covered her face with her arms, and sprinted across the room. She expected to feel sharp beaks and claws tearing at her any second, but nothing happened. She reached the door untouched. She pulled the handle and it was locked.

The other three followed her. They tugged and heaved at the door, but it wouldn’t budge. Not even against the Alohomora charm.

“Now what?” said Ron.

“Do you think it’s a more complex spell? Some doors require blood,” Neville suggested.

“These birds… they can’t be here just for decoration,” said Hermione.

They watched the birds soaring overhead, glittering- glittering?

“They’re not birds!” Harri exclaimed. “They’re keys! Winged keys- look carefully. So that means…” she looked around the chamber while the other three squinted up at the flock of keys.

“...yes- look! Broomsticks! Neville, you stay here, the three of us will fly. Let us know if you see one that… well, which key is it do you think?” Harri asked.

“I’d say we’re looking for a big, old-fashioned one- probably silver, like the handle,” Ron said after examining the lock.

They were off. And not for nothing was Harri the youngest seeker in a century. She quickly spotted a likely suspect. It had a bent wing as if had already been caught and stuffed roughly into the keyhole.

Harri had the other two herd the key while she gave chase, and was able to smash it against a wall. All four cheered.

They landed quickly, and Harri ran to the door, the key struggling in her hand. She rammed it into the lock and turned- it worked. The moment the lock had clicked open the key took flight again, looking very battered now that it had been caught twice.

“Ready?” Harri asked the other three, her hand on the door handle. They nodded. She pulled the door open.

The next chamber was so dark they couldn’t see anything at all. But as they stepped into it, a light suddenly flooded the room to reveal an astonishing sight.

They were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen, which were all taller than they were and carved from what looked like black stone. Facing the, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. The four shivered slightly, the towering white chessmen had no faces.  

“Now what do we do?” Harri whispered.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” said Ron. “We’ve got to play our way across the room”

Behind the white pieces, they could see another door.

“How?” said Hermione nervously.

“I think,” said Ron, “we’re going to have to be chessmen.”

He walked up to a black knight and put his hand out to touch the knight’s horse. At once, the stone sprang to life. The horse pawed the ground and the night turned his helmeted head to look down at Ron.

“Do we- er- have to join you to get across?”

The black knight nodded. Ron turned to the other three.

“This needs thinking about…” he said. “I suppose we’ve got to take the place of four of the black pieces…”

The three stayed quiet, watching Ron think. Neville looked horrified at the prospect of being in a chess match. Harri wasn’t feeling too great about it herself. Wizarding chess was a fair shade more brutal than the muggle version.

“Now don’t be offended or anything, but none of you are that good at chess-”

“We’re not offended,” said Harri quickly. “Just tell us what to do.”

“Well, Harri, you take the place of that bishop, Hermione you go next to her instead of that castle. Neville…. You take the king.”

“I’m going to be a knight,” said Ron.

The chessmen seemed to have been listening, because at these words a knight, a bishop, a castle, and the king turned their backs on the white pieces and walked off the board, leaving four empty squares that the four filled.

“White always plays first in chess,” said Ron, peering across the board. “Yes… look…”

A white pawn had moved forward two squares, and the game was on.

It was hard fought, but Ron was brilliant at chess. So when he paused, a glint in his eyes, Harri knew that he had found a way to win.

“Yes,” he said as the white queen turned toward him. “It’s the only way… I’ve got to be taken.”

“NO!” Harri, Hermione, and Neville shouted.

“That’s chess!” snapped Ron. “You’ve got to make some sacrifices! I take one step forward and the queen will take me- that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harri!”

“But-”

“Do you want to stop Voldemort or not?” It was the first time Harri had ever head Ron say his name.

“Ron-”

“Look, if you don’t hurry up, he’ll already have the Stone!”

There was no alternative.

“Ready?” Ron called, his face pale but determined. “Here I go- now, don’t hang around once you’ve won.”

He stepped forward, and the white queen pounced. She struck Ron hard across the head with her stone arm, and he crashed to the floor- Hermione screamed but stayed on her square- the white queen dragged Ron to one side. He looked as if he’d been knocked out.

Shaking, Harri moved three spaces to the left. The white king too of his crown and threw it at Harri’s feet. They had won. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear.

“Stay with Ron, Neville,” Harri called, as she and Hermione charged through the door and up the next passageway.

“What if he’s-?”

“He’ll be alright,” said Harri, trying to convince herself. “Neville knows a few healing spells. He’ll stop any bleeding. Maybe even start pulling him out. Though… I suppose the only way out is through Fluffy and a broomstick.

They reached another door.

“All right?” Harri whispered.

“Go on,”

Harri pushed the door open.

A disgusting smell filled their nostrils, it was another troll. Knocked out, or maybe dead, already. They rushed past and opened the next door. There was nothing very frightening in here, just a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line.

“Snape’s,” said Harri. “What do we have to do?

They stepped over the threshold, and immediately a fire sprang up behind them in the doorway. It wasn’t ordinary fire either; they were trapped.  Black flame had shot up in the doorway leading onward as well.

“Look!” Hermione seized a roll of paper lying next to the bottles. It was a riddle. Lucky for Harri, Hermione was with the brightest witch she knew. Hermione sorted out the riddle within moments- identifying poison, wine, and the bottle that would lead on to safety. That only left the one that would take Harri on to meet with Voldemort- her soulmate. There was only enough for one of them.

Harri was deadly aware that she was like a lamb to the slaughter. That this may be a very foolish idea. But she had to stop him. She turned to Hermione, “You drink that, go back and get Neville and Ron. Grab brooms from the key-room, go straight to the owlery, and send an owl to Dumbledore. Then get Snape. He’ll come to help me.”

“Harri, what if it’s Snape behind that door.”

“It won’t be.”

“So you really think it’s… him behind the door?” Hermione asked.

“Well- I was lucky once, wasn’t I?” said Harri, pointing at her scar. “I might get lucky again.”

Hermione’s lips trembled, and she flung her arms around Harri.

“You’re a great witch, Harriet Potter. I love you, you’re my best friend. Come out of this. Please.”

“I love you too, Hermione. Really. You’re the first person in the whole world I ever loved. Go save our friends,” she said, pressing the bottle into Hermione’s hand.

“Go save the world,” said Hermione, as she drank the potion. She shivered.

“It’s not poison?” said Harri anxiously.

“No- but it’s like ice.”

“Quick, go, before it wears off.”

“Good luck- take care-”

“GO!”

Hermione turned and walked straight through the purple fire. Harri took a deep breath and picked up the smallest bottle. She turned to face the black flames.

“Here I come,” she said and drained the little bottle.

It was indeed as though ice was flooding her body. She put the bottle down and walked forward; braced herself, saw the black flames licking her body, but couldn’t feel them- for a moment she could see nothing but dark fire- then she was on the other side, in the last chamber.

There was indeed someone there- and it wasn’t Voldemort. As Harri had expected, it was Quirrell.


	16. The Man With Two Faces

"I thought I'd be seeing you," Harri said as cooly as she could.

Quirrell smiled. His face wasn't twitching at all. "And I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter. Managed to escape Severus, have you?"

"He doesn't know that I'm here," Harri said.

Quirrell laughed, and it wasn't his usual quivering tremble, either, but cold and sharp. "That was a poor idea, Potter. Severus may well have been the only one who could help you. But now here you are, alone. No Snape, no Dumbledore. What a waste of time they spent, trying to keep you alive, Potter. Now that I'm going to kill you tonight."

Quirrell snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang out on thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around Harri.

"You're too nosy to live, Potter. You weren't at the feast on Halloween, and for all, I knew you'd seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone."

"So you let the troll in."

"Certainly, I have a special gift with trolls- you must have seen what I did to the one in the chamber back there? Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off- and not only did my troll fail to beat you to death, that three-headed dog didn't even manage to bite Snape's leg off properly. Now, wait quietly, Potter. I need to examine this interesting mirror."

It was only then that Harri realized what was standing behind Quirrell. It was the Mirror of Erised.

"This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," Quirrell murmured, tapping his way around the frame. "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this… but he's in London… I"ll be far away by the time he gets back…"

All Harri could think of doing was to keep Quirrell talking and stop him from concentrating on the mirror.

"I saw you and Snape in the forest-" she blurted out.

"Yes," said Quirrell idly, walking around the mirror to look at the back. "He was on to me by that time, trying to find out how far I'd got. He suspected me all along. Tried to frighten me- as if he could, when I had Lord Voldemort on my side…"

A chill ran down Harri's spine. Her wayward magic, which she had limited control over in the best of times, began to spike and flow around the room at the mention of Voldemort's name. Something felt… wrong. Familiar and wrong.

Quirrell came back out from behind the mirror and stared hungrily into it. "I see the Stone… I'm presenting it to my master… but where is it?"

Harri struggled against the ropes binding her, but they didn't give. She had to keep Quirrell from giving his whole attention to the mirror.

"I heard you a few days ago, sobbing- I thought Snape was threatening you again…"

For the first time, a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell's face. "Sometimes," he said, "I find it hard to follow my master's instructions- he is a great wizard and I am  _weak_ -"

"You mean he was there in the classroom with you?" Harri gasped. She had felt it then too, hadn't she? The wrong magic. And in the forest. Was Voldemort here  _now_? The urge to be invisible, to run away, had never been so great. But Harri knew she couldn't run. She had to stop them from getting the Stone.

"He is with me wherever I go," confirmed Quirrell quietly. "I met him when I traveled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas of good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it… Since then I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He had had to be very hard on me." Quirrell shivered suddenly. "He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me… decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me…"

Quirrell's voice trailed away. Harri remembered her trip to Diagon Alley- how could she have been so stupid? Quirrell hadn't worn his turban that day! But she had never seen him without it at Hogwarts. Did that mean that Voldemort… was behind the turban?

Quirrell cursed under his breath. "I don't understand… is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?"

Harri's mind was racing. She knew that the thing she wanted most in the world was to find the stone before Quirrell. So if she looked in the mirror, she would see herself finding it- which meant she would see where it was hidden! But how could she look without Quirrell realized what she was up to?

She tried to edge to the left, to get in front of the glass without Quirrell noticing, but the ropes around her ankles were too tight: she tripped and fell over. Quirrell ignored her. He was still talking to himself.

"What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"

Harri's worst fear was realized when a voice answer. It seemed to come from Quirrell himself. Harri knew with a sickening horror that she was right. Voldemort was in the room, hidden behind the turban on Quirrell's head.

"Use the girl… use the girl…" the voice hissed.

Quirrell rounded on Harri. "Yes- Potter- come here."

He clapped his hands once, and the ropes binding Harri fell off. Harri got slowly to her feet.

"Come here," Quirrell repeated. "Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

Harri walked toward him.  _I must lie_ , she thought.  _I must look and lie about what I see, that's all_. But Harri knew there was magic that let someone know you were lying. Snape had used it often enough around her. Surely Voldemort would know….

Quirrell moved close behind her. Harri breathed in the funny smell that seemed to come from Quirrell's turban. And now that she knew Voldemort was back there… well was it possible that it was rotting flesh?

She saw her reflection, pale and scared-looking at first. But a moment later, the reflection smiled at her. It put its hand into its pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone. It winked and put the Stone back in its pocket- and as it did so, Harri felt something heavy drop into her real pocket. Somehow- incredibly-  _she'd gotten the Stone_.

"Well?" said Quirrell impatiently. "What do you see?"

Harri screwed up her courage. And knowing that she'd probably be caught out she said, "I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore. I've won the house cup for Gryffindor."

Quirrell cursed again, and Harri was almost relieved. Quirrell couldn't tell about lies.

"Get out of the way," he said. As Harri moved aside, she felt the Stone against her leg. Dare she make a break for it? But she hadn't walked five paces before a high voice spoke, the voice of Voldemort.

"She lies… she lies…"

"Potter, come back here!" Quirrell shouted. "Tell me the truth! What did you just see?"

Voldemort's high voice spoke again. "Let me speak to her… face-to-face…"

"Master, you are not strong enough!"

"I have strength enough… for this…"

Harri felt as if Devil's Snare was rooting her to the spot. She couldn't move a muscle. Petrified, she wanted to disappear as Quirrell reached up and began to unwrap his turban. She must say nothing. She could not speak to him. He would  _know_. She couldn't let him know.

Harri would have screamed, but she couldn't make a sound. There, in the rotting flesh, was Voldemort's face on the back of Quirrell's head. He was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.

"Harriet Potter…" he whispered.

Harri tried to take a step backward but her legs wouldn't move.

"See what I've become?" Voldemort began. "Mere shadow and vapor… I have only form when I can share another's body… but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds…"

Her magic, which was rioting around her, finally seemed to push her to move. She began to step back, but Voldemort flicked Quirrell's wand and she was immobilized again. She could feel his magic around her. It was… like hers. But not hers.

"We haven't finished our talk Harri… Once I have the Elixer of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own... Now… why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket?"

He knew. How could he know? Snape only knew when she was lying if he was in her mind. She could feel that usually... Was Voldemort in her mind? Panic engulfed her. Voldemort's spell was the only thing keeping her standing.

She shook her head.

"Don't be a fool," Voldemort snarled. "Better save your own life and join me… or you'll meet the same end as your parents… They died begging for mercy…" She wanted to shout at him that he was wrong, but she mustn't… "Your mudblood mother was worst of all… tried to give me you up in exchange for her life."

"LIAR" Harri shouted.

Voldemort froze. He looked very surprised. Horror was filling Harri, knowing she had broken her one vow in all of this. To not speak to Voldemort.

"Ohhhh… Harriet… you've been keeping a secret…" Voldemort hissed. His eyes were gleaming in pleasure.

"No," Harri said, shaking her head. She took a step back, somehow free of the spell Voldemort had cast.

"And look how your magic absorbs mine…" he added, watching her take another step. "I think I want to see it…" Well, Harri certainly didn't.

"Quirrell, I want to see under her mark covering… Get the girl and the stone… unharmed"

"NO," Harri shouted, and her magic pushed at Quirrell, pushing him back several feet, nearly crashing him into the mirror.

"Harriet… look at you… a little child of abuse… I see Dumbledore prepared his witch well…" Voldemort let out a hissing laugh. "But I tire of this… give me the Stone."

"NEVER!" She sprang off toward the flame door. "SEIZE HER!" Voldemort screamed and the next second, Harri felt Quirrell's hand close on both her wrists. He grappled with the clasp of the cover, and then was ripping it away.

At first touch, needle-sharp pain seared across Harri's scar; her head felt like it was about to split in two; she yelled, struggling with all her might, and to her surprise, Quirrell let go of her. The pain in her head had lessened- she looked around wildly to see where Quirrell had gone and saw him hunched in pain, looking at his fingers- they were blistering before his eyes.

"Is this what you wanted to see," Harri shot at Voldemort, holding up her hand. Her exposed wrist was visible to his ruby eyes, and the words ' _Avada_   _Kedavra_  ' gleamed at him. His face twisted.

"Seize her! SEIZE HER! I will NEED her," he shrieked, and Quirrell lunged, knocking Harri clean off her feet, landing on top of her, both hands around her neck- Harri's scar was almost blinding her with pain, yet she could see Quirrell howling in agony.

"Master, I cannot hold her- my hands- my hands!" And Quirrell, though pinning Harri to the ground with his knees, let go of her neck and stared, bewildered, at his own palms- Harri could see they looked burned, raw, red, and shiny.

"Then bind her, you fool. Use your magic!" Voldemort hissed. Quirrell raised his hand to cast ropes again, but Harri, by instinct, reached up and grabbed Quirrell's face-

"AAAARGH!"

Quirrell rolled off her, his face blistering, and then Harri knew; Quirrell couldn't touch her bare skin, not without suffering terrible pain- her only chance was to keep hold of Quirrell, keep him in enough pain to stop him from casting a curse.

Harri jumped to her feet, caught Quirrell by the arm, and hung on as tight as she could. She pushed every ounce of magic she had into her touch, into burning the man alive. Quirrell screamed and screamed- her head was splitting in pain- she couldn't see, she could only hear the terrible shrieks. She gripped any part of him that she could. His arm, then that seemed to be gone, his face, and then that too somehow lost its way from her hand. The shrieks lessened, the pain began to fade.

Harri was fairly certain that she was losing consciousness. Yet, finally, she could see again. And she was surrounded by ash.

Quirrell was gone.

A shriek went up through the air, and a grey wisp rose up from the ashes around Harri.

"I'll… find you…. Harriet…" it hissed, and the spirit of Voldemort faded away.

Harri thought she heard someone calling her name in the distance, but she couldn't keep her eyes open.

The stone was safe, she would take a rest here before….

* * *

Something gold was glittering just above her. The Snitch! She tried to catch it, but her arms were too heavy.

She blinked. It wasn't the Snitch at all. It was a pair of glasses. How strange.

She blinked again. The smiling face of Albus Dumbledore swam into view above her.

"Good afternoon, Harri," said Dumbledore.

Harri stared at him. Then she remembered: "Sir! The Stone! It was Quirrell! I had to do it, to protect the Stone-"

"Calm yourself, dear girl, you are a little behind the times," said Dumbledore. "I know what you had to do, Harri."

"He knows now. I couldn't stop myself. I spoke, and he knows and-" she was all anxiety.

"Harri please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out."

Harri swallowed and looked around her. She was in the Hospital Wing. A familiar enough sight. Next to her was a table piled high with what looked like half a candy shop.

"Tokens from your friends and admirers," said Dumbledore. "What happened down in the dungeon between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so naturally, the whole school knows."

"They know that I murdered a teacher?" Harri asked with horror plain across her face.

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes dimmed. "Nothing of the sort Harri. The school knows that you had a confrontation and that you won. Nothing to do with Voldemort or murder."

She nodded… feeling heavy.

"Is the Stone safe at least?"

"I arrived just as you were losing consciousness Harri."

"You got there? You got Hermione's owl?"

"We must have crossed in midair. No sooner had I reached London than it became clear to me that the place I should be was the one I had just left. Professor Snape and I found you in a pile of ash, half-conscious, burning in fever."

"Professor Snape must be furious with me," Harri said, looking down at her covers. There was a string that looked promising to pull at.

"Professor Snape was more worried than I have seen him in many years," Dumbledore said. "We both feared that we were too late."

"It was just luck that I figured out what to do. My touch burned Quirrell. He would have gotten the Stone if it weren't for that."

"Not the Stone, Harri, you! Professor Snape and I feared for your  _life_  Harri. As for the Stone, it has been destroyed."

"Destroyed?" said Harri blankly. "But your friend- Nicholas Flamel-"

"Oh, you know about Nicolas?" said Dumbledore sounding delighted. "You did do the thing properly, didn't you. Severus just let me know that you knew about the Stone! Well, Nicolas and I had a little chat, and agreed it's all for the best."

"But that means he and his wife will die, won't they?"

"They have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die."

Dumbledore smiled at the look of amazement on Harri's face. "To one as young as you, I"m sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas and Pernelle, it really is like going to bed after a very very long day. After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."

Harri frowned again. "I killed Professor Quirrell. I don't… I don't know how to deal with that Professor," she looked at Dumbledore, tears in her eyes.

"I would argue, Harri, that he was dead as soon as he let Voldemort take control of his body," Dumbledore told her.

Voldemort. The other horror from the chamber. "He knows now. He knows about the words. He seemed elated," Harri told him. "There are other ways he can come back, aren't there. Ways that could use me."

"Yes," Dumbledore said, "Nevertheless, Harri, while you may have only delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time- why if we delay and delay he may never come back to power. You may yet live a long life without being troubled by Voldemort."

"I don't know if I believe you, Professor," Harri said thinking on the wraith's parting words.

"You have lost your childhood far too soon, Harri."

"I'd like to know the truth, sir. About me and Voldemort"

"I must ask again Harri, that you let this be an answer delayed. Not today, not now. You will know, one day… put it from your mind, for now, Harri. When you are older… I know you hate to hear this… when you are ready, you will know."

Harri could tell there was no point in arguing.

"Do you know why Quirrell couldn't touch me?"

"Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realize that love as powerful as your mothers for you leave its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign… to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hate, greed, and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason."

Harri was weeping silent tears through Dumbledore's little speech. "I feel like I've mourned my parent's death this year," she said wiping away the tears. "I never got to mourn them before."

"I know that hate has marked your childhood Harri," Dumbledore told her, "But if there is anything that I hope marks your future it is love."

"I have things that used to be theirs now. Professor Snape gave me my mother's charms textbook. And someone gave me my father's invisibility cloak."

"Ah- your father happened to leave it in my possession," he explained, "I thought you might like it. Your father mainly used it for sneaking off to the kitchens to steal food when he was here."

Something Voldemort had told her was nagging at her mind. "Voldemort said that you left me with the Dursleys because they abused me. That you wanted my magic to be like this."

"Ah, yes. I can see why he would think that. It is the way he would have done things, I imagine." Dumbledore was no longer smiling. "I take your childhood very seriously, Harri. I would not wish it on anyone. I feel nothing but shame and guilt that I allowed you to suffer. However, Voldemort is correct in the outcome. Would you like to know what you, Professor Snape, Voldemort, and I all have in common?"

"What?"

"Unusually expanded magical cores from adverse childhoods. He would think… knowing what he knows… that I would want you to be as powerful as possible. And again, he does not understand the cost of such things. Not truly. I would rather you be born a squib Harri, with no magical powers at all, than to have knowingly left you to an abusive home."

He looked painfully sincere. Harri wanted to believe him. She hoped that she would. She just needed time to think, to put this entire adventure into some kind of perspective.

"I have one more question."

"Just one?"

"How did I get the Stone form the mirror?"

"Ah, now, I'm glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something. You see, only one who wanted to find the Stone- find it, but not use it- would be able to get it, otherwise, they'd just see themselves making gold or drinking Elixer of Life. My brain surprises even me sometimes… Now, enough questions. I suggest you make a start on these sweets."

There was a noise from the doorway and Harri looked past Dumbledore. Snape was there. Madam Pomfrey came bustling out of her office. "One visitor at a time Severus!"

Dumbledore stood. "Harri and I have spoken, Severus may visit with his ward," and he left with a wink and smile.

Snape quickly strode over, and sunk into the chair Dumbledore had just vacated.

Madame Pomfrey gave him a glare but returned to her office.

"You dunderheaded idiot," Snape hissed at her as soon as Madam Pomfrey was out of earshot. "Do you realize how foolish you were? Running into danger like that?"

"You weren't listening," Harri said, surprised that Snape was so mad when Dumbledore had been so nice about it all.

"Don't you understand, Harriet! Quirrell was never going to get the Stone. You refused to trust me when I told you that, and you ran headlong into danger. You could have DIED."

He nearly shouted the last part.

Oh.

"You were worried about me."

"Of course, I was worried about you! Do you think I work this hard to keep just any student alive? You run into danger like your life means nothing, Harriet. Is that any way to treat your mother's sacrifice?"

"That isn't fair. Please don't bring her into this," Harri said, still not emotionally recovered from her conversation with the Headmaster.

"Somebody needs to," he hissed at her.

"I'll do better!" Harri exclaimed. "I will! You're right. It was stupid, and now he knows. And I murdered Quirrell, and Ron could have died. I was wrong. I get it!"

Snape put his head in his hands. "Harriet… you were very brave and very foolish. You should not have done what you did. It was not safe. But it was a morally good thing to do. You were… a Gryffindor. I would wager that your mother would have done the exact same thing."

"You think?" Harri asked.

"Don't take that as an endorsement," Snape scowled. "You don't know your punishment yet, but I promise it will be a long long summer of thinking about how to moderate your Gryffindor tendencies."

* * *

Madam Pomfrey was being very strict.

"Just five minutes," Harri pleased.

"Absolutely not,"

"You let Professor Dumbledore in. And Professor Snape."

"Well, of course, that was the headmaster and your guardian. Quite different. You need to rest."

"I am resting, look, lying down and everything. Oh, go on, Madam Pomfrey…"

"Oh, very well," she said. "But five minutes only." And she let Ron, Hermione, and Neville in.

" _Harri_!"

Hermione looked ready to fling her arms around her, but Harri was glad she held herself in as her head was still very sore.

"Oh, Harri, we were sure you were going to- Dumbledore was so worried-"

"Snape was so worried!" Neville added.

"The whole school's talking about it," said Ron. "What  _really_  happened?"

Harri couldn't tell them all of it. But even with her edits, it was one of those rare occasions when the mostly true story was even more strange and exciting than the wild rumors. Harri told them as much as she could. Quirrell; the mirror; the stone; and Voldemort. The three of them were a very good audience; they gasped in all the right places, and when Harri told them what was under Quirrell's turban, Hermione screamed out loud.

"So the Stone's gone?" said Ron finally. "Flamel's just going to  _die_?"

"That's what I said, but Dumbledore thinks that- what was it?- to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."

"I always said he was off his rocker," said Ron, looking quite impressed at how crazy his hero was.

"So what happened to you three?" said Harri.

Hermione told most of it with Ron and Neville joining in where they could. Hermione had to keep reminded Ron that he wasn't even conscious for any of it.

"Do you think that he let you do it on purpose? Giving you the cloak and all that?" Hermione asked. Harri had been pondering this. Her overly expanded magical core. Her horrid childhood. Finding the mirror the night she had gotten the cloak. Could it all be a ploy?

"I think he felt that I had the right to face Voldemort," Harri said carefully. "I think… he knew that the confrontation had to happen at some point."

Harri had to refrain from touching her soulmark. They both knew now, her and Voldemort. What that would lead to… well, Harri had no idea.

* * *

After a good night's sleep, Harri felt nearly back to normal.

"I want to go to the feast," she told Madam Pomfrey as she straightened her many candy boxes. "I can, can't I?"

"Professor Dumbledore says you are to be allowed to go," she said sniffily, as though in her opinion Professor Dumbledore didn't realize how risky feasts could be. "And you have another visitor."

"Oh, good," said Harri. "Who is it?"

Hagrid sidled through the door as she spoke. It was his second time visiting Harri in the Hospital Wing. "It's-all-my-ruddy-fault!" he sobbed, his face in his hands. "I told the evil git how ter get past Fluffy! I told him! It was the only thing he didn't know, an' I told him! Yeh could have died! All fer a dragon egg! I'll never drink again! I should be chucked out a' made ter live as a Muggle!"

"I already knew, Hagrid. I found it in a book. He could have figured it out, if he knew where to look. This is Voldemort we're talking about, he'd have found out even if you hadn't told him."

"Yeh could have died!" sobbed Hagrid. "An' don' say the name!"

"VOLDEMORT!" Harri bellowed, and Hagrid was so shocked he stopped crying. "I've met him and… well, I'm calling him by his name. I can't live my whole life in fear of saying his ruddy name. Have a Chocolate Frog, I've got loads..."

Hagrid wiped his nose on the back of his hand and said, "That reminds me. I've got yeh a present."

It was a handsome leather-covered book. Harri opened it curiously. It was full of wizard photographs. Smiling and waving at him from every page were her mother and father. "Sent owls off ter all yer parents' old school friends, askin' fer photos… know yeh didn't have any… d'yeh like it?" There was even a photo of Snape and her mother, that the Professor had clearly donated.

Harri couldn't speak, but Hagrid understood.

* * *

Harri made her way down to the end-of-year feast alone that night. She had been held up by Madam Pomfrey's fussing about, insisting on giving her one last checkup, so the Great Hall was already full. It was decked in Slytherin colors, and Harri had no reason to think that would change. Until Dumbledore stood to give some last minute house points.

"For a quick understanding of dangerous plants, with a cool and sure-fire solution, I award Neville Longbottom fifty points for Gryffindor." Neville was in shock. The entire table erupted in cheers.

He waited for silence.

"To Mr. Ronald Weasley…" Ron went purple in the face. "... for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points." Percy could be heard telling the other prefects, "My brother, you know! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"

Once again he waited for things to calm down.

"To Miss. Hermione Granger… for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Hermione buried her face in her arms; Harri strongly suspected she had burst into tears. Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves- they were a hundred and fifty points up.

They were only ten points behind Slytherin now, and everyone in the hall knew what was happening next.

"To Miss. Harri Potter…" said Dumbledore. The room had gone deadly silent. "... for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."

The din was deafening. Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought some sort of explosion had taken place, so loud was the noise that erupted from the Gryffindor table. Everyone was reaching out and hugging the four friends.

"Which means," Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin. "We need a little change of decoration."

He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place. Snape looked more than annoyed, and he gave Harri a look that said that rewards for foolish bravery would be discussed later.

But that was later. For now, a feast. It was the best evening of her life… she would never forget it.

* * *

Harri had almost forgotten that the exam results were still to come, but come they did. They all passed with good marks; Hermione, of course, had the best grades of the first years. Neville managed the highest mark in Herbology. Harri, surprisingly, managed the highest mark in Potions.

And suddenly, their wardrobes were empty, their trunks were packed, Neville's toad was found, and Gulliver was perched in Harri's arms as she waved goodbye to her friends as they headed down to the Hogwarts Express.

She wandered down to Snape's quarters, which would be her home for the next few months she supposed, and opened the door without knocking.

Snape was there, but it looked like he was packing up.

"Are we going somewhere?" she asked in surprise, Gulliver leaping from her arms to investigate the area.

"Did you think we would be at Hogwarts all summer?" Snape asked, as he carefully placed empty vials into a kit.

"Well… I don't know. Do you live somewhere else?"

Snape looked up and glared at her. "Of course I do. I have my family home in Cokeworth, Spinner's End. But we aren't going there either."

"Then where?" Harri asked, passing Snape ingredient collection tools that he was motioning for her to hand over.

"I think we'll start in the Congo. We will see from there."

"THE CONGO?"

"It's the summer, Harriet. I have ingredients to collect. You show some… modicum of talent. You will be assisting me."

"You're taking me on vacation to Africa?"

"It's not a vacation," Snape said firmly with a frown.

"It's okay that it's a vacation, Uncle Sev. I've never been on one, this will be fun."

"E-excuse me?" Snape spluttered, looking offended.

"It's summer!" Harri exclaimed, giving Snape her best shit-eating grin. "We're off the clock. No more Professor this or that. That will get old. I think Uncle Sev has a nice ring to it!"

Snape looked like he was going to be ill. "September can't get here soon enough," he muttered as he closed his potions kit with a click.


End file.
